Locks and Lusts
by ToBeAJabberwocky
Summary: Set 5 years after the war. A story about a war ravaged Hermione in a terrible relationship with booze and Ron, a mute Snape locked in a room behind a green door that always looks a bit more of a vomit color when he's in there, and the breaking of perception that drives reality forward. Drugs, drips, booze, cheap sex. Maybe the student has learned from the teacher after all.
1. Wake Up

_Hello!_

 _I have dyslexia. So, that explains a lot of what is to come. I love reviews and if you're going to leave a hate message please let me know WHY you disliked my story. That would be super helpful. :) To those who like the concept! Thanks!_

* * *

 **Relapse**

Severus Snape wakes from a blackness that felt centuries old but from a sleep where he got very little rest while within. He wakes to a room of black and cold while his body radiates the fire of severe injury and the weakness of the slipping hands of death. He doesn't want to wake because the moment he does he knows he's alive which is something he did not want to be. He panics because he knows he's breathing, he can feel the raising and falling of his flesh against whatever fabric lay over his skin. He begins to panic because he doesn't know where he is, ut to be alive in blackness was not calming for him at all. He moves his arms and yes they work so he pushes up but quickly finds himself back down on the cushion as a disabling shot of pain jolts through his left hand and embeds in the curve of his elbow. He squeezes his eyes and bites his cheek as a low groan rumbles from his chest. He stays conscious, but still, he thanks the blackness that he hadn't hit his forehead for that would have meant he was in a casket which would have been worse than anywhere else he could have ended up. Being buried alive was always a fear of his but thankfully that was not the case this time...

He's grasped his wrist as the sharp pain pulses and he'll quickly register the fabric of the tightly wrapped bandage that's present under his fingers. Pushing through the pain as he's so well trained to sift through, he slows his breathing as he lifts his left arm… Instantly his eyes widen as he looks upon a bandaged three-fingered hand; a damage that he doesn't remember obtaining and whose discovery will jolt him upright, yelling out in some mixture of pain and fear as he pushes himself up. Nothing escapes his throat but he doesn't realize this in his panicked state, and if he were to retell his mindset of that moment later, he'd maybe explain how he was running from his actual hand. He was running back to his fingers, running back to the Shrieking Shack, running back to that last day before that last school year when he was back in his armchair with a hard shot of fire whiskey and a good book on that perfect summer afternoon.

In reality, he's run from the bed causing a sharpness to rip through his skin and as he crashes back onto the floor and against the cold metal bed frame. He finds he's ripped all but one needle out of his skin. It's a clear tube on a metal pole that he follows from the notch of his arm up to the clear plastic bag that hangs above him. The IV is on wheels and when he moved, so had it. The rest of what was attached hang limply like vines or chains that were used to hold the body in its prison state. Looking away from where he woke, he uses the pole heavily as he climbs up onto his feet. He's such a weak and sloppy mess that he pushes the wheeled pole along as he stumbles to a stand, focusing on the black words on the clear plastic bag.

 _Elixir of Ice_

A healing IV drip. He smiles like a fool because he knows this potion. He knows the way his toes slide on the floor and he recognizes the knock of weak knees. Like many heavy muggle and magic pain alleviation, this elixir calmed the entire body and created a strong numbing, drunk effect in the mind. He looks around in a better state of mind, far more conscious and accepting of his waking. His hand goes to his chest where he finds himself immediately repelled by the bandaged disfigurement for the second time and in response he stumbles away from himself again with a sudden jerk. As he looks up, his eye catches a floor length mirror that sits in the corner of the room and slowly he limps his way over to it, stopping right before stepping into the reflection. His breathing is slowing and with his weight leaning on the cold steel pole that he relies on to keep him up, Severus Snape takes the heavy step. He hears the squeaking of the wheels echo in the room, his feet are cold on the bare stone floor, his breathing holds as he takes the step and stares at himself as he was just then. He's dressed in a hospital gown that covers his body but even with the moonlight from the glass strip of the skylight window being his only light, he is able to guide his eyes along the many moon white scars. Some he knows, more he doesn't... He's stepping up closer, standing with his bare feet slightly apart, slowly raising his hand he's looking down only after the reflection raises with him. The hand is only his first three fingers, his ring finger and pinky were gone at the bottom knuckle and the entire hand is wrapped in a clean, bright white bandage. He feels his heart rate start to pick up again and his vision sway so he put his hand down and his forehead against the cold pole as he breathed in heavily, trying his hardest not to vomit.

It takes a minute of self control before he can look again, blinking a few times before sliding his sweat drenched forehead to another, colder part of the pole. Feeling overheated, his mouth is dry but he's shivering because he's so very cold. Straightening up to a balanced-enough stance he raises his good hand and pulls the string of his grown allowing the fabric to fall. He stands naked in the night, his malnourished, pale body glowing in the blackness and he walks up to himself, his eyes looking over himself before landing on his throat. It was more than just his throat... Deep, serrated scars reached down onto his chest and there was a still healing scar on his stomach that wasn't from the snake as it was far to new and fresh. He looks down, touching the thread of the sewn stitches. What did come from the snake were the scars on his cheeks and that which were scattered in sharp lines down his jaw as well on his arms. His left forearm was bandaged while his right bares the scars of the few defensive blocks he had made against the snake. The highest of his scars he can see cuts up from his collarbone, travels over his neck and ends right below the back of his cheekbone. He remembered that bite. He remembers how the poison spit before the bite landed and he remembered the burning in his eye and the poisons fiery agony. He leans forward and tilts his head as he looks into the reflection of his eye. His pupil looks off, like some of his iris overflowed and dripped down into his socket. He frowns as the closeness also shows his ripped lips and chunky, flesh missing jawline. Straightening back up, he opens his mouth but when he tries to speak his voice is a hiss of air and fire agony. He tries again to say something, anything, but what he thinks cannot be pulled up while rejected movements and pain coursed through every attempt. He gives up quickly and looks elsewhere.

Another wave of panic races his heart so he steps away from himself, his eyes shooting around the space looking for the door. His body was growing heavy under his weakness, but his heart won't stop racing in his chest and the adrenaline that rises is numb and manic. He needs a plan he realizes, and he'll hyper-focuses on his path to this. He's in a hospital room, yes. He can tell by the line of cabinets and style of countertop storage. He saw an extra wheelchair against the wall along with a set of black leather chairs by the heavily draped window. He quickly finds the hamper of folded stacked hospital clothes behind the door of a tall, boxy closet and pulls out a set. With grit teeth, he pulls on a set of drawstring pants and after that he'll grunt his way into a light green scrub style, shirt using the button sleeves to accommodate the IV he wasn't ready to take out. He will find his wand in the drawer at the bedside table and tucked it into the tightly tied pants that sat loose on his overly skinny hips. He's noticed his malnourishment and would have counted his ribs if he hadn't been staring at his throat. He takes a brown fabric bag that he found under the sink among another basic wound cleaning products and then he puts in three reserve Elixir bags that he finds in a cold box off the sink. From shelves, he finds emergency high dose anti-infections and pain medications that probably should have been locked up but weren't, as well as a few sets of bandages and tape.

With his IV secured by another wrap of a bandage he groans as he lifts his hand above his head, his shoulder stiff and pained, he drops the handles of the bag on one of the pole hooks and collapses onto the bed out of breath and shivering from the sweat that layered his body and the pure adrenaline that pumped through him in waves. Now, the door. With heavy, slow steps he limps his way there and shakes the locked handle. He bites his cheek and thinks as his shoulder rests against the door frame. There's no handle, instead there's a slot for his fingers and after that he finds the door is a sliding door, a door that is locked and shakes when he tries to open it. With a heavy sigh he closes his eyes and envisions the lock releasing. The door clicks and he grins to himself as he cracks his eyes open. This time when he pulls the door slides away and slowly, using the pole as his support he shuffles his way out the room and into a cold, dark hospital hall. Indeed he's in a hospital wing but not at St. Mungo's… it's another hospital.. Not the Hogwarts infirmary nor is it any private clinic he's ever visited… He doesn't know this hall, but he knows the smell of disinfectant and understands the basic hallmarks. Quiet as the grave, there are many other doors like his and all of them are closed which prompts him to shut and lock his behind him. He wasn't coming back and he figured there wasn't a need to expose his exit any earlier than he needed to.

He chooses to go right and travels down the candlelit corridor nearest to the wall, checking behind him with every few steps taken. He'll have made it through two turns before stopping as a shadow cast on the ground from a sharp right turn and he hears the sound of approaching footsteps entering the hall he shared a corner with. Quickly, pressing his back against the wall, he listened to the oncomers heels and he'll hold his breath and watch the break in the hallway as the humanesk shadow grows darker and darker. Soon, a mediwitch steps into view before turning straight to the right and away from him. He waits for her to turn the next corner before stepping from the shadows and continuing on, taking the corner into the hall she had come from. He'll find stairs and make his way downward from the floor marked three to the ground floor that's far more lit but empty except for a man in a security style robe whose eyes bulge when he sees the shuffling, struggling patient.

"Hey!" The male guard called from behind his desk. "Hey, you can't just leave?!"

He kept going towards the door, keeping his back to the man who he heard rushing around the desk and when he felt the hand drop on his shoulder he turns and with nearly all he has, he shoves his palms into the center of the man's chest. The wizard if that's what he was, was forced off his feet and away from Severus who quickly pushed through the large glass doors that opened for him and apparated away the moment his foot touched the hard black tar and cool outside air.

..

The Burrow.

He almost laughs as he stands on the edge of the forest and sees the rebuilt home standing where its always been, cast in the light of the full moon and looking immaculate as always. Still tall and crooked, still jagged and uneven, rooms grew off the edges like crystals as windows dot each floor. It's not long now until he's safe and can finally sleep with some sort of comfort. He travels the space between here and over there on legs of swamped swallowed feet and the closer he gets the more he feels its warmth and siren song of welcoming. Life. There are people awake though the house is quiet and dark and until now he hadn't planned on how he would conduct things if any conversation were to occur. At the door now, with a heavy breath that told tales of his pain, he collapses against the threshold and doesn't think of what to do next... He was exhausted to the point of not feeling anything but the primal need for sleep so he slams his good hand against the door, cracking his fist off the wood several times..

There's silence and then the door opened and he grins sarcastically as he pushes his way in and past Arthur Weasley.

"Who… Severus? Oh, Merlin!"

He says nothing, but waves his hand which summons the quill and parchment from the nearby desk that he uses to write his note. With a wave down he'll drop the paper into the hands of Arthur as he turns and starts up the stairs.

 _Asylum_

 _Asylum_ is an old code word used by the Order for when a member needed a place to heal, so Arthur wouldn't refuse the man but followed behind each struggled step that made up the tall and twisting staircase.

"Severus… Where… where have you been?" Arthur whispered.

Nothing, but he knows Arthur doesn't know that he doesn't have a voice to answer with and didn't understand how tired he really was. Arthur never tried to stop the man that ascended his home, nor did he tell him to halt… Maybe it was because whoever it was was truly hurt and Arthur could tell that whoever they really where, they would just fall over backward if they paused for even a moment. This was Severus's final push and last mountain, his hearing was going in and out as he pulled his way up the thin, uneven staircase. At one point his foot misses a step and his knee collapses but he'll push himself back up without help and continues to slide along the wooden wall without any of Arthur's help. His eyelids have dropped and he travels blind knowing where the door is because this isn't the first time he had climbed a feat like this, but when his hand lands on the wall where the door should have been, he opens his eyes. He's standing before a wooden wall instead of an expected door but when he heard Arthur clear his throat, Severus looks over to see the man with a meek expression motion upwards. He follows, looking further up the stairway where he sees the green door he knows so well just above him.

His heart skips as he realizes this wasn't the same staircase… because this wasn't the same house. His throat becomes just a little bit tighter as he takes the next three steps up which must have caught Arthurs attention because he waved his hand in a motion that opened the door for him.

"Go on." Arthur pushes, and Severus will give the man a nod before turning away from the owner of the room and home to slide his way into the darkness of the space. Arthur would wait a moment before pulling the door closed and he'd lock it from any outside intrusions before turning and starting down the stairs without another question or word to his wife that waits at the bottom with wide, questioning eyes.

Now, alone in the room that looked so much like the one before it, Severus Snape recalls what he can. He knows nothing about what happened to him after the snake but he remembers that so deeply that he still feels the tearing of skin and the burning venom. Slowly, he pushes the pole to the bed and sits down on its edge taking a moment before raising his eyes and reading the time on the small bedside clock.

12:34 am.

He shuts his eyes and grips the edge of his bed with both hands.

1,2,3,4.

His fists tighten on the blankets.

1,2,3,4... Make a wish.

…

...

...

The Next Night:

There are other occupants in the many rooms of The Burrow. Ginny Weasley still lives at home simply because she plays too much Quittach to want to spend money on somewhere she was never at. Her mother loves it as her only daughter is still under her roof and she spoils her with every return. George lived at home and did nothing much because he was utterly shattered over the loss of his brother. The family had removed Remus from The House Of Black and he lived there full time and even worked part-time at Luna's shop and with George at the twins joke shop. Harry had promised to come by that night for dinner and he was to bring the renegade Weasley with him. Ron was never around much these days, he always said that he very busy and he saw his family less than the rest of the children which was odd but was something he also refused to talk about. Ron was there though for this family dinner, a smile on his face and light conversation in the air, him and Hermione laughing as looks are exchanged passively over the table occasionally. Luna smiles as she holds the hand of her boyfriend Neville, who had this Friday off from the castles restrictions. Charlie, Fleur and their baby had been over but in a bedroom when Severus arrived and were planning to stay until after dessert and coffee knowing nothing about the man. They sat together with little Victoire on her fathers lap as the mother fed the giggling toddler. Percy, who sat next to his brother played with the child, would come through right as the table was being set but would leave before coffee and cake sighting he had a girl to visit with a small, bashful smile.

There's nothing special about the night, nothing different or annually planned, the Burrow just acted like a candle on a regular basis. Bright and always warm with constant waves of use, right now things were very busy which is how Molly loved it as much as she missed it. At the counter now, she's is trying very hard not to make herself obvious as she packed a tray to deliver upstairs. Though no one was awake last night, the house was alive now as food and drink were shared and conversation passed. Severus had played his normal shadow self and remained in the healing room with the door closed and silent through the entire day and had yet to show evidence of his presence. There was a moment late in the afternoon where Molly had entered the green room only to see the sleeping man still in the bed, laying on his side with his back to her. She had approached quietly and touched his shoulder. She told herself she had to. If she hadn't, she probably would still be thinking his arrival was merely something she dreamed. She almost got away with her deviancy and was almost out of the room with the tray in hand before Ron spoke up above all the others.

"Mum. Where's that going?"

The kitchen quiets as eyes turn to Molly who gave a meek smile and gestured to the tray of food and drink.

"Well… It's going.. Upstairs."

"To who?"

They were her children and always would be… but they were no longer children and that was something she had to keep in mind. Stiffly, she nods her head.

"It's for Professor Snape."

To explain energy to someone who couldn't feel it, this room could have been used as a prime example for the moment Molly said this name the space became irrefutably colder.

"S… Snape?" Neville asked and Molly gave an apologetic smile.

"I thought he was dead!" Ron's hand slammed against the table.

"That was speculation!" Hermione corrected as she lifted from her seat. "No one knew what happened to him when he was taken. They thought those people worked at St. Mongos but no…. They just.. Left with his body."

"But, I thought he was dead." The child came out of Ron as he tossed his fork onto the table.

"No." Arthur stated, hushing the boy and his foolish behavior, "He's alive. He's been here since about midnight last night and he's been here the entire day."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Charlie asked at the same time as George and the father shrugged before going back to his potatoes.

"Because no one asked."

Taking this distraction as the room lit up in conversation, Molly slipped out of the kitchen.

And indeed Severus had been asleep. He had slept on heavens pillows in the janky small room with one window. He didn't hear a thing and won't be woken until a soft hand shakes him. First he jumps because he's stirred, but then jumps again when he realizes it's Molly who stands before him now which triggered the wash of memories from the last night.

"I.. I didn't mean to startle you." She said softly as while he eyed her, she eyed his wrapped hand he avoided leaning any support on..

Where he had felt pain before, the accelerated drip made it so he could not register such distractions during his travels but he feels it now though he notices the bag he's attached to is totally full. He had so much pain. Pain in his entire left arm, and pain in his legs. He had pain inside around in his abdomen and a furious pain that swelled in his throat.

"We umm.. Well, Arthur and I saw what you were hooked up to and we didn't see how another dose would do you harm… We slowed your dosage than what it was… You have two bags left…. Oh, Severus.." Her voice broke as she adjusted on her feet and moved closer, "Where have you been?!"

He doesn't respond, and he doesn't get angry at her anger because she doesn't know he can't.

"Severus… You're free to stay here…" She lowered herself before the man, a more serious tone in her voice. "But you need to tell me what happened."

He looks at her, his oil ink eyes against bloodshot white flashes in the dark room that surrounds him. Slowly he leans forward as he tilts his head to the side, questioning her as he lifts his right hand and places his palm on her forehead. With a gasp Molly grasps her throat, her fingers clutching the spaces he feels his most discomfort and strain. She sounds like the one time he tried to talk. His voice a whistle and wheeze, his throat constricting in rebellious ways. He'll release his magic and drop his hand.

Slowly, Molly's hands fall from her throat her face filling again with color.

"You can't talk…" She whispers and he shakes his head no.

"What's the last thing you remember?" She moves closer to him, "What do you know of after the war?"

Again he lifts his hand and lands his flesh upon her crown but this time she sees what he had.

The first person perspective of the snake. The fangs, the poison, the hatred. She hears the jaws snap in her ears and the tearing of flesh and vessels, she shutters and falls away from him before she can see anything else..

"Severus.." She doesn't quite know in what emotion to say his name with but stands here with a shaking hand over her mouth.

"You've been missing… for five years…. We all thought..."

He would swear by Albus and Merlin together that if it wasn't for that drip of total relaxant he would have had a melt down all over again. Actually, he figures the fact he's been so calm all this time was based just on exhaustion and drugs alone. It was nice, and he promises to turn the dose higher as soon as she leaves. He looks from her to the full bag of _Elixir of Ice_ before looking back to Molly. He nods slowly before taking the cup of milk off of the tray and downing the entire thing before drinking all of the water in the other glass.

"You're thirsty. Did… you just wake up? I mean, before here… Do they know you're here? Who kept you?"

Too many questions for someone who can't say anything, but first he nods as his eyes land on the food and he realizes how hungry he really was. He then shakes his head no as he leans over, taking the bowl of porridge with a weak grip and would take small bites that he had problems forcing himself to swallow. Molly watches as he gives up, spits food into a napkin that he puts back on the tray next to the bowl irritably, eyeing the empty glasses as he retreats inside himself.

"I'll.. I'll get you more." Molly rose to her feet. "I'll...be right back... Don't... don't leave."

She left the man with a curved eyebrow but he'd lay down instead of rising, determined to be back asleep soon, but not fast enough where he'd wake with his mouth desert dry.

…

Hermione chose to stay the night mostly because she wanted to see a sign of her old potions master. She knew Molly and Arthur wouldn't lie but no one in the house except for them had seen him. What if it wasn't really Snape? Ronald had brought this up quite a few times and he was right.. They didn't know.. She had passed the green door three times that night, the last time around 2 in the morning when she just couldn't sleep and was heading downstairs. The green door was still closed and she thought back to her childhood as she passed it. She had never gone into this room as it was always locked so she wouldn't attempt now. She just passed it a bit slower and tried to hear anything from within. She couldn't hear anything so she continued on. The house was asleep, or so she thought.

She'd land on the ground floor and turn into the kitchen with a yawn that turned into a choke when she looked ahead of her. A shadow form with the energy she knows so well is sitting on the counter, shoulders bent, a flash of eyes coming from behind strands of oil back hair. She stands frozen, but the teacher's eyes will fall from her and slip back over to the stove that she will see for the first time is lit and warming a liquid in a small black pot. When he tilts his head, the moonlight catches his profile as his eyes hold on the spoon his fingers twist slowly through the liquid.

"Professor Snape."

He glances her way only using his eyes before his head nods and his attention is back on the stove. She sees at his side that the moon flickers against the metal of the IV pole and she'll follow the clear tube, and yes… indeed it's attached to the side of his unclothed arm.

"I ummm.. I didn't mean to…."

His head is nodding casually, the definition in the layers of black comes clearer the closer she approached. She stops behind the fridge in some sort of awkward hiding as she watches him for a moment.

"I was just getting some water." She says as casually as she can as her hand slips onto the fridge handle, his eye raising to her again before dropping.

She was being foolish, she scolds herself as she pulls out a collected ice tray from the freezer and places it on the wooden topped island fixture. She was a woman of the Ministry now, not a child at a classroom desk. She had no reason to act like a scared mouse in front of a cat so she steps out and walks over to the cabinet at his side. She gives him a curt nod before pulling open the cabinet door and taking a deep brown mug from a high placed shelf. He doesn't help her, though he watches her as she comes inches from him. Still, she can't help but almost doubt he's there.

She could smell the scent of blood and sweat and notices his clothing is not anything that she had seen before on him. A hospital shirt. She glances down and notices his trousers are light blue/green and are held by a wrapped string that lay limply over his leg. He was also barefoot but she had noticed that from a distance. He's wearing a black bathrobe that hangs open over everything but then she takes her eyes away because she knows she's staring. She'll back away as she takes the cup and would place it on the island besides the ice. He hadn't said a word to her but she feels his eyes weighing as she tries to ignore him. She looks up and sees he's moved on and is watching the pot again as she turns back to her cup of water.

"I'd expect that you would have at least said, hello."

When she looks up again he's already looking at her, his eyebrow quirked. "Never mind."

Her cheeks flame red as she sees him smirk, an almost mocking smile and her stomach flips and shes about to look away when he raises a shadowed hand that's wrapped with fingers missing up to the robe where he pulls away the layers of fabric, tilting his head and exposing the scaring she hadn't willed herself to look at.

"So you can't talk." Her shoulders loosed as the pot begins to boil. "And your fingers… All from the same…."

She takes a step back as he slides off the counter, landing in a rather weak kneed stance. She watched him stare at her before nodding and turning his back to her, walling her out and telling her to go... She'll stand in the darkness of the kitchen and watch him wave his hand, using magic to move the pot from the burner to flowing into a cup of his own before that good hand lifts the mug by the handle. She watches until he turns back and sees her still there, his arm hooking around the metal pole using his wrist to guide it. He walks past her and she moves out of his way as the pot lands itself quietly in the sink.

...

That night he's panicking. Not because of Hermione Granger or the encounter in the kitchen or even about the fact he's here at all. The IV bag is nearly empty and after this he only has 24 hours to get everything sorted out. 24 hours if he doesn't turn the valve again...

Sobriety means facing the world in which he returned to that up until this point he hadn't thought about once. A world where Hermione is stronger than he, a world where five years had passed and everyone assumed him dead. He panicked because he had no idea where he came from or what side those people who saved him were on. He woke in a hospital but left through magic, never once seeing anything he could recall as distinguishable which was his fault. He knew better than that... He'd force his way through another panic because he knew he would go through withdraw alone and silent and now regretted how quickly he had been running his drip but knew slowing it down was something he'd never end up doing… Soon after the bag is empty he will start shaking and the pain of all his injuries will envelop him in a sharp few days of dissociated agony. He knew all of this because he knew Elixir of Ice was addicting and addiction was something that was not a foreign concept to him… This brought up another point...He was over a decade sober... whoever saved him didn't know not to use such triggering treatments on him... Coming here was wrong, he realized while still knowing he couldn't have gone home because that's where everyone would have searched first... He had no answers and no direction and no plan at all, he was alone and still so very cold...

He never wanted to be alive… Living wasn't the plan... It had even been discussed at length a few different times... But he was breathing… he was awake in The Burrow and didn't know a single thing about of what was or what had passed. The blackness became the coffin he feared when he first woke and he thought of all of this and more as he sipped his tea that night and twist the valve on the bag just a smidge more open.


	2. The Mourning of Answers

_A/N - So, as a friendly heads up, I have super dyslexia. :) I do take your comments seriously and there have been some edits but I can't catch them all. If there's a bothersome edit that needs to be done feel free to hit me up and let me know. I can go over 100000 times and I'll still miss something. Lol. Thank you for the support! Enjoy the next chapter._

 **The Mourning of Answers**

Hermione wouldn't see her ex-professor until the next night when she returned to The Burrow for dinner. She had spent that Saturday at her home alone once Ron left. The day was unproductive and spent in quite a fidgety headspace. It had been five years since the war and if you told Hermione Granger that she'd be so alone in life as she was now, she wouldn't have believed you one bit. With the death of The Dark Lord came the flash of lightning limelight that she wouldn't be able to handle. It was too soon, to fast, too many quills recording all her words while no one asked her how she felt…. just what horrors she had seen. Reliving the worst over and over again had left its strain, the unrelenting attention pushing into her own burrow.

Her relationship with Ronald was a celebrity act but while Ginny and Harry could fall into the status perfectly, Hermione and Ron seemed to become overwhelmed as their own experiences plagued them. The two drank a lot when they were together which every time would lead to loose, almost meaningless sex. They were in a relationship mostly because that's what the newspapers told them they were in when in real life they only saw each other a few times a week where they would spend a night at an event, have dinner, and then head back to a bar or the eithers home to drink and snog and take out sexual tension until the morning when they'd leave for work.

It was a decent relationship and Ron treated her well…. but it was still a very empty courtship.

Hermione had moved away into a forest cottage that resembled something like Hagrid's hut though much bigger and with a few defined rooms. There's an open kitchen that lead into the common space, a study for her work, there's a guest room for people that weren't Ron and then the bathroom and of course her own master bedroom. Surrounded by trees and forest life, it was simply beautiful and serene and while Hermione attended all her own events, rarely was anything thrown at her own private residence. She's fallen into the solitary life and with the end of Hogwarts, in a way, came the end of the Golden trio. They were all still very close but Harry was busy with Ginny and everyone was busy with work. The childhood time off was now just a memory buried in bills and expectations as with Voldemort gone there didn't seem to be any more adventures left to have... And where Hermione assumed for all those years that she'd cope with normality, she couldn't. So, she drank…

She drank when she was happy, she drank when she was sad. At parties and events, there was always booze and she always ordered at least two glasses with her dinner and something warm and mixed for dessert. There was a specific alcoholic drink that tended to ward off the night terrors so she drank that too... "Terrys Allikans" is a sharp Irish cream that she mixed heavily with hot cocoa before bed every single night. Some had mentioned concerns, but she didn't see a problem with anything as long as it didn't affect her work. And those were Ron's words before they were hers, she would have reminded you when you pried...

Her work…

She worked a rather personable job with the community just like she had always wanted to do.. But she had never accounted to how people actually were when they weren't talking to children. They were rude things who took her authority as a threat and instantly acted back harshly. She tried to help people, she did and tired honestly. She fought for Muggle and Magic acceptance and the rights of creatures and pets but with this came so many regulations and rules that were her job to uphold and therefore threaten if indeed they were broken. People didn't like this… and rarely they took her words of fair warning respectfully. At home in her study, she was mapping a theory about adding electricity that she would never show anyone anyway. An off grid method of reusable power that no one wanted to hear…

It wasn't odd that she returned to The Burrow for dinner, though, she wouldn't mention that this time it was mostly because of Snape. He had taken to meals that were blended and liquified by Mrs. Weasley who had casually mentioned to her that it was because he was having problems with solids. Hermione had seen empty cups return but the teacher himself wouldn't show his face to the light for reasons Hermione felt like she lightly understood. She didn't know why she thought of him so obsessively but had indeed thought of him all night, his being only washed away with the hard tonics that Ron supplied, but besides that, she thought of him. It wasn't too strange though, she had always hyper-fixated on things that confused her and right now, Professor Snape was that thing..…

She didn't yet know how she felt about his return because there were so many things to feel. Hatred, anger, resentment, and distrust. All those things until that final year when the story of everything unfolded for her and those who read the Daily Prophet. She was proud of him, she reveled in his home-owned intelligence and was remorseful for the pain in which he chose to go through as well as the sacrifices that he subjected himself under. She was understanding because much of what he did he had done for them. She longed for a time to speak with him alone where he would answer some of her questions or just be there to hear some of the things she wanted to say. That could have been the other night in the kitchen, but she was in shock much like the rest of the house had been in. She also felt regret for the hatred she once held. She had always figured him alive, never knowing why, but for some reason, she had a hard time letting him go. But it was easier when he was gone, at least this draw of awaiting and questions didn't pull her in through the front door of The Burrow. Physically brightening when she entered the kitchen, she saw Mrs. Weasley blending another drink as she cooked up dinner and smiled.

"That for, Professor Snape?" She asked in passing and Molly would lookup and greet her warmly.

"Yes. Actually, do me a favor, love. Bring this to him for me? I have somethings I need to pay attention to down here. Oh! And Harry is here, up in Remus's bedroom."

"Harry's here?" She smiled as she took the large cup. "He does love living here when Ginny's away, doesn't he?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled at her. "It's always nice to have him in.."

"Have you spoken to him?" Hermione asked gesturing to her cup.

A small, sad smile broke over her lips. "No. At this point, I'm sure he can't talk… Not that he spoke all that much before but I'll be honest, it's nice to have a break from all that oily sarcasm… But I feel like the shock of him being here is wearing off." She nodded her head. "We plan to talk to him tonight about… everything. We don't mind him staying here… But, we need to be aware of some things."

With a wave of her hand, Hermione watches Molly magick the spoon to move through the gravy as another wave turned down the burners but Hermione knew the woman would taste the food herself. And so, fresh through the swinging door, Hermione was starting up the stairs with her bag on her shoulder and a cup of dark purple liquid in one hand, ascending up until the flash of green slows her stride. Adjusting the bag, she squares off in front of the green door. Raising her fist, she pauses, then knocks her knuckles against the wood. She waits. Nothing. She knocks again and waits again but when she knocks for the third time the door is opened swiftly and the very physical shadow of her most feared professor appears in the space in the crack of the door. He looks like a painting; a ghostly hospital patient against a black backdrop with a thin face and sallow complexion. One hand is on the door, his wrapped handicap still hanging at his side as his shoulder leans against the threshold.

His head cocks and she shakes herself out of her waiting. She, like Molly, had expected to hear something harsh and rude. She expected something sarcastic or angry for her knocking so many times. But nothing… not even a hissed, questioning hello. He looks as though he had just woken up and had pulled himself out of bed. He didn't even have a robe on which allowed her to note the buttoning hospital top and the baggy dingy hospital scrub pants. She wondered for a moment if he would gather any of his own clothes at some point…. Then she thought about his flat and if it even existed anymore.

"Umm." She shakes her thoughts from her head. "Here. Molly asked me to give this to you since I was on my way to see Harry and Remus."

She extends the cup and his eyes drop to the clear cased drink. He looks back to her and holds on her for a moment with an unreadable, exhausted stare before he releases his hand from the door and takes the tall glass from her. She can't help but look at the notch of his right arm where a bandage is wrapped around his elbow keeping the IV in place. Under that and stopping at his wrist was a black tattoo of a long image she couldn't distinguish. She quickly drops her eyes when she feels his heat upon her. Without a word or motion of thanks, the door is slammed in her face and shes again alone in the staircase.

"Hey, you guys." Hermione sighs as she shuts the bedroom door behind her as she entered Remus's bedroom.

"Hey! Hermione!" Harry was up out of the armchair and was hugging her tightly. "How are you! How was work?"

"Good. Good. All good. I was to remove a house elf from an abusive home though now, he keeps arguing his return to the family so we're setting up a meeting about either freeing the elf or giving him a wage and abuse counseling."

"You've always been an empathetic one." Remus smiled as he sat up.

"How are you?" She hugs Remus.

"I'm tired." he sighed. "I swear I felt the house shiver last night. Must have been when he came in."

"He?" Hermione asked as she placed her bag on the bed and sat next to Remus.

"Snape." Harry informed. "We were just talking about it."

"Seems everyone is."

"It's unexpected." Remus grit, unusually angry.

"Ron said it might not even be him." She tried but Remus shook his head.

"I know that git better than anyone in this house… It's him…. I know it."

She sighed and looked between the two knowing she wouldn't find welcome warmth here. They were both seemingly upset which was odd because Harry rallied so hard for the man to have a headmaster's portrait. Remus though, he was uncharacteristically out of place.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked and Remus shook his head. "He's a cockroach Hermione… Even when he wants to die…. He won't.."

"So! Harry." Hermione almost violently attempted to change the mood, "Ginny! Did you see that she won her last game!"

"I did." He sighed, clearly happy by the news but too distraught to carry on. Usually, the happiest places were right here, but as she sat in silence she felt as if she was in the potions classroom again.

"What do you think Snape wants?" Harry would ask the room.

Remus shrugged and the bag was back over her shoulder and she was slowly rising to her feet. "I'm going to go help, Mrs. Weasley. Maybe check in on Arthur."

The two nodded their heads and she closed the door behind her. She'd be slow as she passed the silent green door for a few steps but eventually would pick back up her speed, reaching the kitchen to talk to Molly who was busy and with not much to say so she wandered outside and found Arthur working in the shed.

"Hi, Mr. Weasley." She smiled as she entered the overstocked and piled space, the man looking up with a smile behind a pair of magnifying glasses over his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to examine how muggles run these clocks as well as they do. Did you know there's a single muggle clock that had run for almost 80 years without repair? That's some longevity, my dear, Hermione."

She'd sit on a stool across the workbench from Arthur and sighed.

"Everything all right?"

"Harry and Remus won't stop talking about Snape and Molly is too busy so I thought I'd come out here."

"Well, it's always good to see you, Hermione." He smiled as he twists the screwdriver. "I wish my son would come around as much as you both do."

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean?"

The father sighed, "he's just so distant. I've tried writing to him but he never gets back to me unless it's something serious." He looked up at Hermione. "You two are together, do you know if he's mad at us?"

Lowering her eyes on the table, she picks the wood with her fingernail. "We aren't really together… We see each other… But honestly, that's all paper talk. In the last few years, he's grown distant from me as well. But I'm sure it's not much of what you've done so much that he's busy."

"Do you think it's all work?" Arthur asked avoiding eye contact.

"I don't know why he'd lie but at the same time…" She watched him place the screwdriver as she spoke. "I've never gone to where he works."

"Yes.. Even with all the Ministry workers, I have yet to really find the address of where he works…." He shakes his head as if he were wiping away the dark thoughts. "Anyway, according to this clock, it's almost dinner time. I bet we can help Molly set up. If not, we should get the other two together and get George from his room and start settling down. Let's go."

Dinner would go through with just the six of them and after they had formed in the living room before the fire. Harry is playing wizards chess with Remus in the corner as Hermione read a book on the couch as Arthur worked on something mechanical over a small fold-out table. George was drawing and had hardly said a word to anyone all day and even now stayed at the back of the room. The candlelight that kept the house warm was comfortably dim, a large, warm fire in the hearth acting as the main light.

She had seen him first because she had finally decided on her third drink of the night. Something warm… Something in the kitchen... Appearing before her as she rounded the threshold was the very disheveled Snape in all his disheveled glory sitting where he had been just the other night. She hadn't heard him come down the stairs and hadn't heard the pot land on the stove. But there he was, just as he had been just last night. The liquid in the pot steams and everything was like it was but this time the kitchen is far more lit and the scene far more real. He was still wearing the same muck green scrubs under the same dark black robe that wasn't his. He feet were still bare but in Hermione's opinion everything, including himself, looked washed. His hair hung a bit longer, and he looked just a bit older but his eyes were the same cold, well black holes. She watched him lean forward, the pronounced light of the room exposing the teacher of shadows.

Slowly, she walked up to him, glancing behind her towards the threshold as she reminded herself to speak softly.

"Professor," she greets.

His eyebrow quirked which was when she remembered he couldn't actually talk which made her feel like she was at a zoo; as if she were holding a venomless snake or petting a toothless dragon. There was a clear, obvious threat before her but there was no roar and the creature was too tired for any massive swing. She lands at the island again, leaning her hip against it as she watches his fingers lace around the countertop edge as he squared off.

"I wouldn't sit on that," she tells him. "Molly will throw a fit."

She wanted to sound light-hearted but he wouldn't return the gesture, or maybe he did because his head tilts to the side and he pushed himself off the counter, sliding his body off until his feet touched the floor soundlessly. She watched him as he walked up to her slowly, each step looking heavy, his jaw set but loose and he'd step right up to her until he stood inches from her. Her breath caught within her as he lowered himself closer, stretching his arm out and…. taking the cup that sat at her side.

As he backs up she releases a heavy weighted breath and looks down, using her hair to mask her blushing cheeks. He uses magic to pour the hot water into the cup and by the time Harry entered the kitchen, Snape was already with his back against the counter next to the stove, both feet together, weight distributed in his legs as even as he could. Suddenly, she felt foolish as she looked at him looking at her, realizing now why he chose to sit. The pole was still at his side, the plastic bag more than half empty, he was still tired and obviously weakened.

"Professor Snape." Harry's voice radiated shock, causing Hermione to flinch in surprise as she looked behind her to Harry who stood stalk, staring at his old professor. As predicted, Remus came into the room next before Arthur and Molly and lastly, George.

She turned back and watched her teacher adjust his position, crossing his ankles as he takes a sip of his tea as he eyed over the small group who stared at him. He nods and lowers his cup that he will hold in two hands, showing his missing fingers which stand as the elephant in the room.

"Where've you been?" Remus asks bluntly from behind her, and Professor Snape will raise his eyebrow.

A moment later Molly moves her way into the room and lands a piece of parchment on the kitchen island beside her. Before backing away, she'll give it a soft push towards Severus who had just glanced at it. Hermione would watch him breathe out of his nose and nod his head as his heel taps against the floor before he pushes into a stand. He sways, but he'll use his cup to gesture them into the living room where they'd followed him to, his arm hooked around the IV pole that he kept at his side like a beloved partner. He'd motion for them to sit down and they would. Harry and Remus together, Hermione in the nearby armchair, wife and husband on the couch, the lonely twin standing alone in the shadows. Snape clears his throat as she watched him slip by her and place himself at the side of the fireplace, the candles dimming as he leans his weight against the mantel He looked so tired, but so very in his place, as he stood before a sitting, waiting crowd and after a moment he'd pull out a purple and black drawstring bag that he opens easily. Hermione knows this product, Tellers Powder, and she'll watch him as he took a small handful of the black and silver powder. He'd glance at Molly before casually tossing the powder into the flame.

The room is suddenly enveloped in black smoke that birthed from the mantle and surrounded them all, swirling an unsure and foggy scene. A white, smoky vision of a very large snake strikes a figure that falls limply into a sit as another figure walks away from the scene… From the darkness, they hear a ghostly screaming that comes from all around them... A group of cloudy, white-faced wizards in robes appear in a puff and push a wispy gurney away into a puff of smoke. There are scenes that resemble a surgery… Men circling the gurney, waving hands, and then there's nothing but whiteness that would fade to nothing. This meant there was more that was locked away in the mind of the summoner. The fog fades and everyone reconnects themselves to the room around them. Remus will be the first to speak.

"And?" He asks roughly.

Severus's brow furrows as the werewolf leans forward in his chair, eyes passing to Harry before the ex-teacher.

"Look, I respect what torture and choices you took upon yourself as a spy. We know the story of what you did for Albus and the redemption you took… yadayada yada….. But, you told me you'd be gone. You told me you planned on dying."

He nodded, his eyes heavy on Remus as the man stared back more confused as ever.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked.

Remus would speak hauntingly grim and with narrowed eyes. "We had a talk, Severus and I…. Over heavy drinks… He promised he'd be out of my hair, he promised he didn't intend to fight off any blackness he meets. But, here he is…. Severus, you had to have this planned, I mean….. If not… you're suggesting you were followed? Like you were chosen to survive?"

"Remus, you're pushing a lot of assumptions," Molly commented.

"But he hasn't attempted to correct me once."

Hermione is watching Severus, she watched his head drop as he's retold promises and then he glances at the clear hanging bag he won't touch. His fingers will fidget as he holds the cup but he'll shift to a more comfortable stand and Remus will catch his gaze to the staircase.

"No." The wolf chuckled. "You can't just show up here after 5 years of...nothing… and hide. Molly and Arthur deserve some answers and I think at this point so do we all. Shock value is up, Severus."

"He's shown us what he remembers," Molly says quietly.

"No… He's shown what he remembers of his memories. There's more in there… More his mind has blocked…"

"And maybe there's a reason for it." Arthur tried.

"We'll see." Remus is up and out of his chair and uncharacteristically Snape was the one who took a step back from the fury of the wolf who smirked before landing at the mantel across from him. "Severus, show me your left forearm."

If the man could pale he would have but there wasn't any more sallow his sickly skin could get.

"Come on, mate. Let me see the forearm."

"Remus-" Molly tried.

"Wait. Severus! Your arm!"

The men were so very uncharacteristic at that moment that Hermione adjusted herself in her chair as to find at least a comfortable position to sit as their cold touched her joints. Remus was sharp and demanding, strong stanced and angry… Severus stood on weak legs with bent shoulders, his eyes holding on Remus but his features looking far more on the defense. The men stare off in silence before Severus lifts the bandaged arm. Stepping up, Remus grabs the bandage which sent a sharp jolt of pain through the teacher who would hiss angrily but allow his arm to be held. She leaned forward in the chair as Remus unraveled the bandage who waited a moment before pulling off the gauze pad. The room is heavy and Hermione watches as the two men look at each other before Remus pulls away the blood-stained gauze.

The Dark Mark is not so black anymore. Instead, it's a serrated mess in what looked like quite a few frantic sessions of manic and blind self-harm. The only slice along the flesh that didn't look so self inflicted was a scar from the fang of the snake. It's the deepest scar as it was the thickest, and it cut from Severus's wrist, down until it split the head of the snake. It was a wound that looked as if it could have killed him if the ripping of his neck didn't. The way the skin had healed over the many years and sessions has set the Dark Mark off in chunks that healed a bit too far to the left and right, broken by paths of white. Many of the lines don't touch anymore but some were wounds that were still relatively fresh.

"So you've been awake. In five years, you've been awake at least...twice before.."

She watched the professor staring down at his arm as if he hadn't seen the wounds before and she noticed the bandage showed. It hadn't been changed and the inside was dyed with dark reds, the wounds on his flesh under medicated and puffy. When Remus finally releases his arm Severus lowered it, finding Molly at his side with a first aid kit quickly taking to cleaning and rewrapping. Hermione quietly notices that he won't push her away but Remus will give her a dark glance as she gives aid.

Snape will shrug his shoulder as his answer.

"Okay, Remus." Arthur rose and stepped over to the men. "I think we're done with th-"

"Try and talk."

"Remus!" Arthur scolded and Remus simmers.

"He can't talk," Hermione sighed.

And this fact seemed to take off a bit of heat. Regardless of what Remus wanted or how he felt, the scars along the mans jaw and throat told stories that he couldn't fight. To think the man's voice was ripped with his throat was something Remus couldn't argue and he'll glance back at Severus giving him the once over before huffing. He steps up and leans into Severus, his eyes on the eyes of his enemy.

"And you're high?"

"Remus!" Arthur now sounded exasperated..

"Elixir of Ice," Remus flicks the bag. "Hermione."

She jumped at the sharpness of his voice and looked at Remus who continued, "Do you know anything about Elixir of Ice?"

Slowly she'd nod, her eyes falling onto the professor as she prepared herself for another one of the classrooms responses.

"Elixir of Ice." She starts as her potions teacher watched her in her seat. "Umm... It's a multi-use agent for internal damages mostly aiding in tissue reconnection and overall bone and muscle regrowth. Used for critical patients, it's a body numb as well as a coagulant as to control bleedings. Also used for its anti-anxiety side-effects."

"Very good." Remus complimented as more of a teacher than she guessed he meant. "It's also addictive… isn't it, Professor Snape?"

If someone was going to say anything and if this conversation was going to be had, it was suddenly forsaken by the official-sounding knocking on the front door. The sound of the four strong wraps carries an aura that strikes Snape in the heart. He was high on the drip, yes that was true so he didn't realize his composure fell, but Hermione had watched his eyes widened with the straightening of his back and shoulders. Remus quirked his head but like much like she, he would remain silent to what he saw. Molly was up, finishing the final clasp of his band and dropping his arm that he'd check by twisting in the firelight.

"We'll rewrap your hand later." She whispered as Arthur rose.

The father had felt something as well because for such a warm style home, Arthur rose with some conviction. He leaves everyone starting from the living room, Severus stepping out of the line of sight, choosing to lower himself onto the arm on the chair aside George who glanced at him oddly but didn't move away. They all wait and listen as they heard Arthur pulled open the door.

"Good evening," Arthur spoke, right away his tone indicating cautionary professionalism.

The voice that responds with interest is a low, wavering tone. A males voice but one that sent a shiver up Severus's spine and instantly rose the hair on the back of his neck.

"Good evening. May we speak to either owner of the home, please?"

We. There's more than one.

"I am the owner." Arthur continues. "My wife is in the other room with our guests."

"A bit late to have guests?"

"Not in this house."

An awkward silence pulls Molly from the room and out to her husband.

"Hello!" She pulls on that cheer of hers, wiping her hands on her apron, "How can we help you four?"

We…. There's four at the door. Severus dips his head as he listened closer.

"We're looking for someone we think you might know."

'Oh? Who?" She asked in quite a cheer.

"Can we come in?"

She laughed. "Bit late for strangers who have yet to introduce themselves."

Another silence. Strangers. There are both men and women in the group.

"Have you seen, Severus Snape?"

The bluntness was cold and said with enough power to waver even Mrs. Weasley's comfort.

"He's dead." She sighed. "Haven't you heard the rumors?"

"What rumors?"

"That Death Eaters took his body and rid of it. Burned it to ash that would be left to scatter itself."

"And where did you hear that?"

"Well, I was there that day. I saw the masked men whisk him away myself. No one else I know wears masks. So…"

"Hm. What about the ash part?"

"Dinnertime, chatter. Why? Is he alive? Is he in England?"

She speaks with growing excitement, as if a dream were being born and here the man is quite. Severus, on the other hand, was looking as if he were going to melt. Like a waiting meercat or a listening rabbit, he sits ready to flee, something primal telling him to run as he stays in his seat. This unsettles Hermione greatly and she looks to Harry for support who was too busy looking out the room to notice her.

"Perhaps." They hear his voice speak with grim irritability. "I'm just here on a hunch. Thank you for your time."

'Oh, no! You must come in for tea!" They hear Molly suddenly excited, "I want to hear all about these rumors. Harry, dear." She calls from the kitchen. "Harry Potter, they have new rumors of Prof-"

"That won't be necessary. Thank you for your time."

It would be a very short time after that when those in the living room would hear the front door close and lock. A few steps later, both appear back in the room and Severus straightens up even higher with eyes expecting but Molly would start off towards the drawing supplies with her husband following loyally, putting his hand up to indicate silence for the few who had so many questions. While they waited for Molly to finish drawing, Hermione would here end up meeting eyes with Snape in passing and she'll give him shrug to which he'll move off without any indication to her. The picture is drawn a few minutes later and Molly rushes over placing the large white drawing pad onto the teachers lap.

"He is who was at the door." She says quietly.

Hermione couldn't see the picture as Severus was too far away but she could read the hints of his usually mute expression. He looks troubled, deeply troubled. She watched his fingers touch the page with his full hand before looking up at Molly who stood over his shoulder and sighed.

"I don't remember… I remember seeing it.. I remember remembering it… But now… as I think back… I don't know what the design was."

He'd scowl and quickly folded the picture before passing it back to Molly who would let him keep it for now. The face was clearly a demon in his mind, a phantom of something terrible that radiated through his physical self. She feels his discomfort and again sees him glance at the bag for assurance, eyeing the name for a moment before he leans back against the chair. George had seen the image too but had since met eyes and sent messages with Remus who sat beside Harry who had his arms crossed.

"Well," Remus said suddenly as he stood up. "I think I'll go back to Grimmauld place before we're raided."

"Remus!"

"Molly." He gave a smile. "I'm joking. But that was enough for me to know it's time for bed." He glanced back over to Severus, "We're going to talk later."

Giving the wolf a nod to make him happy, the man he was couldn't help but let his lip raise as Remus turned to leave for the staircase and his own private dwelling.

"I'm off too," George said glancing at Snape who was still sitting nearly right at his side. "Night…"

And then Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were next and Harry would leave quickly when he realized he would be left in a room with Snape. The teacher would keep his spot, ignoring Granger as not to give her and sign that would make her stay.

"Hermione. Come on, I want to show you something."

"I'll be up in a minute." She returned, which seemed to surprise them as Snape turned his head and side-eyed her curiously.

"I'm going to get some water, then I'll be up."

"Okay," Harry cautiously as he looked at Snape. "Professor," his voice quiet "Welcome back."

Shed leave Snape alone as she went into the kitchen and a part of her hoped he'd still be there when she returned while the majority of her just wanted that warm cup of Terrys Allikans. When she came back with the bottle and warm cup of hot coca, she slowed when she saw he was still there. Well, he had moved out of the corner and had taken a seat on the armchair aside the fireplace, his ankles crossed his thumb by his mouth as he appeared to be biting his nail.

"Here." She hands him the entire bottle as she rounded the couch, pausing when he didn't take it, only glancing up at her.

"Oh.. Can you drink while on that drip?"

He quirks his head but takes the bottle anyway, bringing her to smile just slightly. They both know he shouldn't drink while on a drip….. But he would because the high they warned you of, is the wave she assumed he wants to ride. He'll give her something though, he'll lean towards the IV and with a twist of the valve he gives her a sense of accomplishment while in reality, it was so he wouldn't kill his liver. Still, she appreciated the gesture as she sits down on the couch aside from him in the chair.

That night when the rest of the home retired Hermione Granger sits up with her Professor in a scene she never thought they'd share. It was strange and comfortable at the same time. They had been casually passing the alcohol bottle back and forth, a motion started by Hermione and returned by Snape and done over and over again. It made her think of Ron and she almost declined the latest offer just off the fact she didn't want the night to end in a drinking mess… She almost laughed aloud at the thought of Snape and her doing anything besides this, but she doesn't and instead, she breaks the silence with her own conversation.

"Are you going to leave tonight?" She asks him.

His head tilts and when they exchange stares she explains herself.

"I figured you would leave….Well, I guess I don't know what you mean to do... Just figured you'd tire from those hospital scrubs."

But it was true. He had been waiting for her to retire because up until those men arrived at the door he had planned on leaving to his flat and returning before the house woke. Now though…. He shakes his head and holds the drawing in two fingers before putting it back into his breast pocket.

"Ah." He watched her nod her head before returning her eyes to the fire.

Five years must have been longer than they both had thought. The bubbling, boisterous young girl she remembered herself being had simmered into a woman of silence. She didn't push conversation, she didn't do much but sit with her eyes on her book. She drank, and drank and then at one point surpassed him and still she remained calm. He'd spend most of the time watching her with a twisting jaw, upset over how the night was turning out. He wanted to get home to the stash he keeps in the floorboard of his childhood bedroom. He had no plan but one, keep out of the attention of the bald man in the bowler hat. He didn't want to think of what is or what wasn't, he didn't want to think about what he couldn't remember or what the scar on his stomach is from. He doesn't want to know what that man wants from him and he doesn't want to think about a world outside this place. He didn't want this. He didn't want his spine so bent, he didn't want the scarring on his arm…. He didn't want any of this… but the greatest fear that rose from his soul was the threat of seeing Minerva McGonagall. If Molly knew and that woman was still alive, the rumor would get out and she'd be here... And if she came and he was forced to see her… she wouldn't see him in hospital garb and barefooted.

"Professor." His attention snaps back to her, her eyes holding on him. "Where were you planning to go?"

He looks her over before she nods her head slowly. "I can… umm I c,an go to your flat for you…"

He stares at her, his expression unreadable. He stares at her before slowly shaking his head no.

"Is there someone you want to?"

His leg has started twitching and his eyes cast into the flames before he'll take Grangers eyes and turn them to the rising quill.

 _Tonks?_

Hermione nodded her head. "She's alive…"

He'll push her on with his expression and a nod of his head and she will continue as she held the paper.

"Well, I haven't seen her in… years… She doesn't talk to the Order anymore… She and Remus aren't together and Teddy…." Her voice faded for a moment as she thought of the dead infant. "He didn't make it…"

She looks up and sees him staring at the paper. "Oh, sorry." She placed the paper on the table and as predicted the quill raised.

 _"Where is she?"_

She's in her bag, pulling out a black address book she flips through before landing on T.

1430 Westalley Way

She writes this down for him using the quill he has magicked and when she's done, she'll tear the corner off and hand it to him. He'd take it with a glare that looked less angry and more reserved. He looks at her as he raises from the arm chair, starting off away and leaving her alone where she'll drink a bit more before going to see Harry.


	3. She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Called-Nymphadora

A/N - _Hm... A shorter chapter. Okay. I didn't realize that until posting. Anyway, a regular reminder. I'm dyslexic and I can't edit though I do try the best I can._

 **She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Called-Nymphadora**

He had felt Granger's' eyes on him as he walked away from the Burrow and into the forest that same night. She had watched him until he figured his form had been swallowed by the blackness of the unspoiled darkness until she simply couldn't see him anymore. Before leaving he had spent time behind the green door where he had transfigured clothing out of nothing knowing such wear wasn't meant to last and such items weren't ever created for their quality. He had shoes that fit and a black sweater under the leather trench coat he had found in the buro. He still wore the ugly green scrubs that he was rather quickly tiering of but did so to wear more than just magic. The Elixir is almost gone, the bag was nearly empty so he stashed it in the green room to wait for his return. It shouldn't take more than a few hours if that, and if it took any longer he had taken precautions. In his pocket, he carried a bag that contained a cocktail of pills he'd crush up and snort or take directly as the liquid it was. He'd ride this out, get back to the Burrow and hook back up to bag and finish in perfectly planned detox. Easy. No addiction gained.

His plan was simple. First, he'd go talk to Tonks because out of everyone in the Order that didn't include Minerva, Tonks was whom he had had the best relationship with. She was quick witted and not overly sensitive. Being under the wing of Moody for as long as she had been, turned her sense of humor stone and her ability to handle his nonsense concrete. She was never so triggered against his more standard anger, but being relatively close in age had given them a few times where civil conversations were had.

Civil conversations were something to be expected when you're around someone for a long enough period of time. For example, that trainwreck with Granger had been a civil conversation. A short wave of solace within rare hours that often happened at night. In her case though, he hoped the hours would be very far between now and the next time that would happen. Hermione had been his student and although she was very obviously an adult now, he had hardly given her existence a thought past her basic presence within the home. In her favor though, the drink she had handed him hadn't been poisoned, so… there was that.

1430 Westalley Way

... 1430 Westalley Way

He didn't know the street or around which the location was so he couldn't apparate though went as far as he could away from the Burrow. He realized a few things as he stood on the night drenched London sidewalk under a curved, striped awning drenched in electric light. One, he was being hunted by the bald man and his assumed magical associates, all of which he didn't remember a single event with though never felt comfortable when he thought of him. Two, because of this he couldn't just walk into the Three Broomsticks or even Diagon Alley. He couldn't let anyone in the wizarding world see him without risking absolute exposure. Three, He needed a map, or… someone who knew where to go… Four... Snape looks up and notices the camera that points in his direction, he adjusts his hood and looks away. Four, this muggle world was full of eyes and things that recorded his every move.

Because of all this, he must tread carefully and travel quickly.

First, he'll try a corner shop a street over. One of the few that were open this late though sat drenched in heavy gates. The bell alerts his entry and casually he makes his way across the white linoleum floor, though the shelves of snacks and towards the rack of maps and tourist attractions. He pulls out a small pamphlet and opens the three-page fold and examines the map.

There it was.

His brow furrows and quickly he's taking a subway map out of the white metal holder that he quickly flips open. Westalley Way was about five blocks from the subway let off. The silver line up to the yellow line, then the yellow line to the Pitchemen stop. He had no money, but he did have a wand and wandless magic so he would get through the turnstiles easily.

"Hey. You gonna buy those?"

Severus turned around and glanced at the shopkeep who had come out from behind his counter. A thin muggle with scruffy brown hair that he could take easy but won't. Slowly, he folds back up the papers, places them back into their respective slots and walks out the door that rang his exit just as it had his arrival. Now with his bearings, he's back out onto the damp London sidewalk adjusting his hood further over his head and allowing the hair to fall as a shield. His hands would slip inside his trench coat pockets and he'd start off towards the thick stone stairwell that leads down into the bowels of the city. It's not his first time on the subway, not by far, so he knows how to place his hand on the metal machine and what to think so that the red light turned green without setting off an alarm. True, it was illegal… But he had no other choice but to find Tonks this way. Magic left trails… and the people who hunted him were most likely quite skilled.

He follows the signs and lands on his platform and will slide down to the back where he could keep an eye on the few people who stood scattered waiting for the same train. He tried to place the faces of strangers as anyone he had seen before but found no one and would choose to pick a rather empty car when the subway lined up and opened it's sliding doors. The entire time he travels with his hand on his wand, and his eyes peering out from under the lip of his hood. He didn't look too bizarre and his being attracted little attention. The city was full of strange things and he was just another strange person who didn't cause a commotion that brought eyes his way.

Three stops later, he leaves the train and will find himself on a yellow barred platform which would signify his waiting space away from the green painted area that the duel platform shared. There were more people here, though none stared at him for any time more than a glance in passing and he wouldn't stare at anyone either. He'd wait with his back against the wall before he'd slip onto the next car that arrives.

Another fifteen minutes and he's up and off again, traveling through the stone underground station, up the stairs and back into the cold city edgeThere are's more trees here and fewer people. Some cars still travel the roads and he'd keep away from the street as he traveled just as quietly as he had the entire time. He watched those who passed him and kept an eye out for being followed. His awareness was raised and he was uncomfortably hypervigilant. He saw every group of muggles and felt the lapse of magic around him as he traveled, but the further he traveled the less and less he was surrounded by close sitting buildings and city nightlife. The world is quieting significantly and the shops have turned to homes with gated front yards. The windows were all black as they stared down at him as he passed by and the trees with their long branches that held bone still. He felt uncomfortable… but he turned down another road and started counting house numbers.

1430 looked so much like 1429 and just like 1431. The home looks much like the houses that surround it and if you weren't magic you wouldn't know magic lay within it. He was of magic and even more, he knew Tonks and her energy so when he arrived before the home and matched the numbers to those written down he knows he's found the place without having to enter the property. Quietly, he pushes open the soundless gate and travels up the stone path to the wooden door. He knocks, waits… and then knocks again, stiffening when he hears a small commotion from inside as someone walks closer. The door is pulled open and the nightwear clad woman gives him only a moment of attention before she pales completely.

"Se.."

He shakes his head no and goes to step inside. She doesn't move and he's forced to put his foot back down.

"Severus." She takes time to finish his name and look over him, eyes turning up and down the street. "What are you doing… alive?"

His cocks his head and sighed out, hurriedly pulling away his collar and scarf to show his scars and throat before trying to step into the home again. Again, she wouldn't move and he'll huff angrily as his foot lands back aside his other again.

"So, you can't talk?" She asks quietly, her calmness running his blood hot.

He shakes his head no but if he could talk he would have insulted her, telling her how much she was reminding him of Mad-Eye. Another long moment of hard stares where she looks him up and down before, with a sigh, she pushed off the threshold.

"I suppose you want to come in?"

He's inside the moment there's space for his lanky frame to fit and she closes the door behind him casually, but with another glance outside before doing so.

"So… Why are you here?" She asks him as he looks around the hallway, awkwardly stepping further and further into the home.

"You look like an armadillo."

He looks at her now, a questioning stare with a cocked head. She'll give a dark chuckle as she moved by him, leading him into a room that ended up being the kitchen.

"You really can't talk huh? Well, can you drink tea?"

He'd nod so her hand would wave and set the kettle and cups for tea, magically landing all aspects in their proper place.

"So. What's pulled you from the grave?" She says as she gestures him into the chair before she lands heavily in the seat across from him.

She watches him sit in brooding silence before a light clicks in her mind.

"Ah. Right." With another wave of her hand a parchment and quill land itself on the table before him. "There you go."

To say he was off balance was an understatement. This wasn't Tonks…. Well, it was.. But not the Tonks he remembered. This Tonks was a hardened woman who gained no chill or showed a hint of surprise at his presence and on this, he verbalizes his discomfort the best he can.

 _Did anyone tell you I was coming here?_ He writes to her.

She shakes her head and makes takes the quill from his magic hold and writes her own response with a cocky smirk, a reflection of her own thoughts.

 _No._

He stares at her a moment before taking back the air floating feather.

 _What are you thinking?"_

Her grin turned into a full smile and for a spark of time, Severus thought he saw who she used to be.

 _Why do you care?_ She writes to him.

 _I don't._

 _Lier._

He smirks. _Why do you write instead of speak?_

 _Why do you write instead of speak?_

He stares at the page that lay between his tapping fingers.

 _I can't speak._ The quill scribes.

 _You can't?_

 _The snake took my voice._

 _Are you going to go get it back?_

He's had enough. If this was a conversation by voice this would be a snapping back and forth and he sighs before resetting himself.

 _I need a favor._ He writes to her and from where he sat he sees her settle down.

The tea is done and the kettle is pouring into the cups as the quill scratches the paper.

 _What's the favor?_

 _I need you to go to my flat with me._

 _Why?_

His finger taps again and he takes a moment to respond. A time that did not go with it unnoticed as Tonks expression becomes more and more quizzical.

 _Instead of a story….. I only have an explanation of something I know nothing about. Three days ago I woke in a hospital I have no memory of and am being hunted by men I know in my soul are bad. I've been at the Burrow and I need to get out of these clothes. I need to collect various things at my flat…. And I need you to come and watch the radius for me while I do this._

As he wrote, she magicked over the tea and now as she reads he watches her face. He sees the way her brows crinkled and then she looked at him before conducting the quill with her finger.

 _Now, why would I go putting myself into your drama like that?_

 _Because I'm asking for a favor._

 _And what do I get for such an act?_

 _What do you want?_

 _I don't know yet._

He frowns and she looks at him, cup between her hands and elbows on the table.

 _You want me in your debt?_

 _Sounds good to me._

They stared at each other before Snape leaned back in the chair.

 _Mad Eye trained you right._ He dictates the quill to scribble.

 _War trained me right._

Together they would stare at each other and it would be Snape who would look away first. With a further moment of thought he pulls himself back up and nods his head.

"Great." Tonks smiled, snatching up the parchment and folding it neatly. "Let's go."

Again, he's uncomfortable. The conversation went too well and the time between this and his arrival felt too short. He felt rushed, he felt somehow pushed off as though she denied him for no good reason. If he could speak, he would, but he can't and the paper has been taken so he'll move on. He'll rise from the chair and follow Tonks back to the front door, watching as she pulls on her traveling cloak and slips on her shoes now dressed in clothing matched for travel and away from sleep.

"Come on." She insisted and he realized he must have been staring at her because he hadn't moved an inch from the threshold of the kitchen.

"You okay?" She asked, which is when he'd snap out of his haze and nod.

Following her out the door he watched her as she checked both directions quickly but thoroughly before starting out the door. Once out in the yard, she gives him her hand that he'll take by her wrist and pop them from the spot.

…...

What was his home now reflects the childhood tales of haunted flats possessed by evil. He guessed that this was the home the few neighborhood muggle teens whispered stories about and dared each other to touch. He counted two shattered front windows and the front door had been spray painted in red ink in the image of an inverted pentagram. Muggle devil signs.

Somehow he's not surprised and judging by Tonks reaction neither was she. He'd use the shadows and lead them around to a boxy garage that sat next to the home that he would gesture her under the lifting door if that he pulled up. Slipping under behind her he transferred too much weight onto his weak left hand forcing his wrist to give away immediately. The door slams down, he falls to his knees gripping his bandaged hand and Tonks is there to grab his collar.

"Shut up!" She hissed and he gives a growl as he pulled himself up onto his feet.

The sun will start to rise in a few hours but his hands will begin to shake before that. She was right, they had no time to hold on pain. Right then they were in a cement garage with only and few small windows that let in a little light but that huge bulk that sat in the center is what took Tonks attention.

"Whats this?"

Before he can object she's grabbed the white blanket and yanked it away, exposing the old, green, two door pickup truck he owned so very long ago. She's coughing, breaking up the dust with her waving hand.

"I didn't know you owned a truck."

He gives a low growl before grabbing her arm and pulling her around the vehicle, by the shelves of scattered muggle and magic tools and yard care products that had belonged to his father before him and towards a storm door in the far back corner. He'd struggle single handedly before Tonks gave aid and together they lift the steel plate up until they could slip under. They'd push each other silently but with an eye roll, Severus slipped under first which allowed Tonks to follow and silently close the door behind her.

"Should I lock it?"

He's partway down the stone tube hall when he stops but he'll think before nodding which brought Tonks to pause and secure the metal chain by hand, hooking a thick link of the heavy chain onto the hook at the base of the door. He's taken a torch from the wall and had lit it before Tonks had come down and ahead of them both, he'd use it to guide the way through the blackness.

"I didn't know this was down here," her voice comes from right behind his shoulder as she kept close and with her wand ready.

He doesn't answer but he knows she knows he can't which is insane because it means she knows she's essentially talking to herself. Regardless, he'll ignore her and lead them until they reached a staircase up where he'll place the torch in the wall mounted holder and turn to face her. She doesn't flinch and his lip will twitch irritatedly who won't phase her a bit. He goes into his pocket and pulls out a paper he hands to her.

 _Go through my study, collect these things but remember your main job._

Below that, is a list of things and their descriptions she should be able to find if they were still there.

"Make sure no one shows up," she takes the paper _._ "Got it."

He pauses as he reaches the top and right before he goes to open the door that unlocked for its owner he stops and turns to face her. There are paragraphs of sentences in his eyes and in the tenseness of his jaw. Words she can read. He's stressed. She hears him talking about putting so much trust in her and hears his cautionary words of constant vigilance. It wasn't until then did the scene become all so real for her. Perhaps she was far more walled than she thought… maybe what everyone said was right… Maybe she really hadn't absorbed who darkened her doorstep. The missing professor stands in green hospital garb, dawned in a black trenchcoat with his hood drawn. He was missing two entire fingers and his torch lit face was littered in scars. She stumbles internally but will give him a sharp nodd.

"We'll be fine," she assures softly. "Trust me."

…

He's a bit surprised his charms have held so well. The home lays like the day he left it that final night which means while the neighborhood teens had damaged the outside, inside is somewhere that had never been tread in. The first place he goes is into his childhood bedroom and into the closet. Stripping off the green hospital scrubs he changes into his old wears. A shorter dueling outfit with wraps instead of buttons and he'll pull on his robe set that included a hood. All he had worn was put into an endless bag and once at the buro he pulls together socks and undergarments like tank tops and boxers before he finds his boots by the bed. His shoes go into a bag, boots on his feet but he moves slowly because when he bends over a sharp pain moves through his stomach right under the incision... Not using magic was key, remaining untraceable kept the horrors at bay but it took him all around longer which was still just as dangerous, but once his clothes are packed he goes for the money under the floorboard. The box is still there and for that, he's thankful as he slips it into the bag. Another box is slowly taken out of the hole. A box of all his memories, photos, artifacts and even a worn stuffed bear. He takes this too for no other reason than his intuition told him too. He doesn't know when he'll be back.

"Hey!" he hears Tonks from the stairs and right away his heart skips as she avoids his name.. "Someone is close…. We have to hurry."

So he hurries. He's in his drawers pulling and pushing things out of his way or into the bag. When he can't find what he's looking for he growls angrily before he falls to his knees and goes under his bed.

His heart skips as his eyes widen.

There's a small black bag that sits in front of him. A hallmark of a hard childhood he didn't want to find… Slowly, he pulls it out.. his world slowing as his fingers take hold. The hard leather case is bigger than his hands and his fingers will touch the cold metal zipper. Sitting on his heels he opens the case like a book.

It's his old dosing kit…. A black elastic band in a closed net, multiple liquid vials secured in elastic holders … orange capped syringes on the other side… Two muggle lighters and two overused metal spoons with burn marks stained into the sheen. His mouth is dry and his fingers caress over the vials.. fingers he's noticed are starting to shake.

"Creatures on the street! One minute warning!" Tonks hollered.

Pulled from his trance he tightens his jaw, zippers the case closed before shoving it in the bag.

One more thing.

He raises and is out of his room, taking a look behind him a final time before he shuts the door. As he passes before the staircase, a hollow knocking on the front door freezes him in his steps. Tonks is already there on the ground floor landing and the two exchange looks.

"Severus." A voice from the darkness of his mind calls from behind the door. The voice that brings his heart jolt and the hair to stand on the back of his neck. "Severus Snape?" The voice calls him. "You left the hospital without proper discharge… I'm here to ensure your safety and well being..."

Nothing.. They wait in silence but the man's voice picks back up.

"Look. We know there are people behind the door…. And Severus…. We know one of them is you… We just want to talk.."

He shakes his head no at Tonks but motions her to come up the stairs which she does. He's already off, on his way to his parents room; a room he nearly never went into. The bedroom door is opened right when they hear the slamming of the magically forced open front door.

"Severus!" the man's voice is far angrier now. "Severus Snape!"

"We have to go!" Tonks ushered in a hushed voice as she closed the bedroom door. And yes, hed rush. He'd rush right over to his mother's old dresser and mirror set and open the top right drawer.

Feet are racing up the steps.

"Severus!" Tonks ushers angrily now as she squares off with the door. "Let's go!"

He can hear the slamming of doors, one by one being propelled open violently one right after the other. He points to the window and Tonks races over and pushes it open.

"Severus, are you kidding me!?" She hisses but he'll point her out before turning back to the small dresser.

His fingers touch the final box that he yanks and shoves into the bag. Tonks already has left and he follows her out the window and onto the ivy wall outside. She's down first and Severus will land hard on the grass of the backyard but will notice Tonks has frozen before seeing why.

Lucius Malfoy stands with his eyes wide and wand at the ready. Acting fast, Severus grabs Tonks and harshly pulls her behind him, his expression pleading silently as he stood at the end of the blonds wand. The men stare each other down before Lucius flicks the wand pushing the two off.

"Thank you," Tonks whispers for them both as she grabbed Snapes arm.

She looks up at him before looking at Lucius. "He'll be in touch. I promise. "

"These men are dangerous. You both need to go.. now."

And they will, Tonks dragging Severus away until the man took hold of her and popped them back to her home on, 1430 Westalley Way.

The two arrive on the dark, empty backyard of her home and Tonks, yet to let him go, will walk with her fingers wrapped in his sleeve up to the back door. He doesn't pull away which in retrospect is strange for him but they'll together walk into her home before she lets him go. It's very late, or perhaps extremely early but it's time when the sky has started to lighten and late enough where he yawns and Tonks is quick to nod her head.

"If you plan on staying, you can sleep in the guest bedroom," she hands him the bag she used to collect the things on his list before abruptly turning around and starting up the stairs.

The house was very dark and still as if its self was still asleep and Severus would start up behind her much to a disinterested glance back from Tonks. He follows wordlessly until they're on the second floor landing where shell point to a white door across the bedroom door she had lay her hand on.

"That's the guest room. You should be safe there. There's enough magic as well as enough population where no one will try anything even if they could. I'm going to go to bed. You're free to drinks and anything from the fridge but try to clean up. I'll see you in the morning."

She won't mention his sweat dotted forehead or ask why he was shaking as if he were cold. She wouldn't talk about Lucius and gave no way to parchment and quill to find out his thoughts. She'll just look at him before reaching out and taking his good hand with hers.

She gives him a squeeze he'll give back. "Good night."'

Alone again behind a closed door, he's sitting on the edge of another bed that wasn't his. He's trembling, he's sweating and he feels sick. The rush of adrenaline had pushed out the rest of his high and so he's left using her side table to crush pills with the back of the very stained metal spoon. He thinks of nothing but falling asleep, but knows he will stay awake with the withdrawal he's experiencing. He crushes and with a glance at the door he quickly turns and snorts down the power mixture that burns but instantly centers his attention.

He covers his coughing and falls back on the bed, not rubbing his nose but huffing as the rush touches his blood. His vision clears though he's still out of breath as the rush takes him under like a storming oceans wave. The spoon is shoved back into the case and the rest of the pills are put away for the morning. He takes a medical box he used for his many Death Eater returns where his body was wrapped in pain and trauma and instead of anything further, no matter how much he wanted numbness, he takes sleeping potions easily as he forced his shaking body under the blankets. It would not be a good night and would not be a full rest. He knows he'll wake up feeling terrible and only now when he's high does he take in how much Elixir of Ice he's run through his veins the last few days. Far more than he should have, but he smirks when he knows he's the one who took the bags in the first place. His eyes close and he takes a deep breath as sleep overtakes him.

Somethings never change…..

..


	4. What Reason to Care

**A/N - The college semester has started which has slowed me down. I'm sorry!**

* * *

 **What Reason To Care?**

The days that passed would feel like weeks to Hermione and with the turn of Friday to Saturday to finally Sunday night, Hermione has all but been living at the Burrow. She took her breakfast that morning in the kitchen like she had the day before and ate lunch and even dinner with the family that always felt like a second home to her. In her opinion, she had been quite anxious though either acted normally or just no one really noticed or cared enough to say anything. Harry and her had taken an afternoon walk before he was called into work even though it was the weekend, so she'd find herself in the bedroom she was borrowing where she had written to Ron who would write back before dinner, making dates to meet up both at a restaurant table and then most likely her bed. Those plans were for Monday but tonight was Sunday and her mind was on another man, a darker man with a sullen face and lost, oil black eyes and a body draped in night.

Draped in night? Yes…. She only assumed he'd return redressed and imposing once again because she couldn't think of a single reason of why he'd return just the same as he had left. She had thought about him a lot that weekend… perhaps too much. She thought of the way he was and all the trauma she had missed because she was simply too young to see it. Not that his treatment was justified, but he had never drank what he didn't pour and as far as she knew he never ever touched the glass of a potion to the skin of his lips that he didn't brew himself. His back was seldom to the crowd and hypervigilance was almost a normal trait of his. So fluid in his movements….. Late at night she thought of him where once she thought of Ron, in ways that perhaps she shouldn't have thought of him at all. She thought of his ripped lips and scared fingers and wondered whether or not the lightning white lines smoothed his rough and calloused hands. She's thought of the way he looked at her in the dead of night as they stared at each other in silence across the kitchen only a few nights ago. She thought of his eyes as they scanned her and the chill they left when his attention turned away.

A shiver breaks out over her body and she drops the quill, her eyes turning out the window for what could have been the hundredth time in that half-hour. The room she was in was on one the upper floors of the many floor Burrow with a window that was overlooking the land and forest beyond that. The room is for guests and the window looks out over the front door, but much to her irritation, there is not one that faces the back where he also could sneak up and enter through. For that she has kept the bedroom door open and although she should be doing work she can't concentrate. Did he get to Tonks? Did he achieve his tasks? Was he caught by those who searched for him? Hermione, with her head always in the clouds had studied as much as she had in her school days because her mind was always full of so many things and thoughts. Nowadays, as school work is no more and what's left is old, boring and rather repetitive, she's left alone in the silence of her internal chaos. So many questions left unanswered… She decides to take a walk for no other reason than that the air around her seemed stuffy and the room smaller and more claustrophobic than moments before. Pushing the chair back, she tosses down the quill and starts out the door.

The house is dark and the staircase is empty. It's much later than she thought and she notes each closed door as she passes them with each step down. But there's a flicker, one that comes from the only other open door. Georges room. She slows down and stops before the threshold, giving a small smile to the twin who looked up immediately. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and that was it. When she passed there wasn't a book in his lap or a quill in his hand, he was just sitting there on the edge of his bed, staring into nothing until she knocked him from his thoughts.

"Hey." She says softly, crossing her arms with her robe in her fingers and she sees his lip force upwards in a smile he didn't mean.

"Come for a walk with me?' She asks. "It feels small in here.

The twin sits for a moment looking at the floor before nodding his head and slowly stands up.

"I guess I could go for a breath of fresh air." He sighs as he stretches, cracking his back.

She knew George hadn't left his room in days, even more so the time he spent inside. True he went to work every now and then, but the tall red headed man was not the same as who he used to be. He was so quiet now… So shadowed. He did little outside his own mind and often drew of better times or very darkened things. In fact, his room is covered in drawing made of black and browns with scatters of whites and reds. The drawing, she notices without staring, are of skulls, stone headstones and dead things like grass and flowers. There's no more brightness and exuberance, there's no more pranks, there's not much more of anything and she imagines the sadness he feels knowing his own family knows little of how to help. Who could understand? With the death of the twin, he had lost something no one else could relate to even if they tried. She doesn't ask how he's been, she doesn't ask what he's been up too. She doesn't ask him anything but he followers her down the stairs but comments quietly when he notices she slows before the green door.

"He's not back." George mentioned casually and Hermione quickly straightened her back that she didn't realize she had bent and it wouldn't be until they reached the kitchen where George will come back with a question of his own.

"Why do you care?"

"What?" She looked over at him as they made their way across the empty, dark kitchen.

"Out of everyone except… maybe Harry, I'd expect you to hate him the most. Why do you care?"

She bites her tongue and shrugs her shoulder. "Just curious, I suppose."

She heard him chuckle. It's a dark, condescending noise, one that makes her stop right before the kitchen door and look back at the twin who stood above her.

" _Just_ curious. You're such a liar. I've seen the way you stare at that man."

"What way?"

"Like.. you're trying to dissect him. Like you actually want to know what he's been through."

She turns the handle of the door, determined not to have the conversation in the less than private home.

"What do you think?" She asks him as she starts out into the cold chill of the world she thought was warmer.

She hears him shrug as he closes the door behind them and a few steps later he's back at her side.

"I think he's better off dead and I have no idea in what witching world his return is a good omen."

Such bluntness so void of personal hatred, she's confused until she actually looks at him. In the moonlight she sees his cascaded silhouette, his jaw is tight as he looks around the property, his eyes lost and not so cold, but very absent to the time they stand in.

"Are you okay?" She asks with a seriousness that brings his attention to her.

"No… But everyone knows that. Everywhere I look I see Fred..." He whispers to the air. "I need to move out. Angelina **….** She's looking for a roommate, someone to split the rent with…."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. The rent will keep me working and the space will help… But I'm afraid to leave Mum… She's sad to you know?"

"Really?"

He nods. "She's fantastic at hiding it…. But honestly, I stay for her."

"I think she'd rather see you happy again."

"She doesn't want to be lonely."

Hermione shrugs, "No one does."

There's a moment of silence as the two stand in the yard cast in the moonlight and stars. She can see the breath in the air and the same with George. A sign of life in the death of a killing autumn.

"If I leave… Will you stay here for a while? I mean… I know you have a home of your own… But I.."

"Yes." She answers honestly, understanding the son watching out, still protecting against his mother's darkness. The war took much from everyone, some more than others. "I'll stay."

The breath Geroge releases holds such a force that she feels the weight that held him down escape, a breath of toxic thoughts and worries. He almost nods his head but his eyes have caught something in the distance that alerts him and brings Hermione to follow.

"George…"

"Speak of the devil…." George sighes looking up at the home to what she guessed was the one bedroom light that she didn't remember being lit.

"Brimstone to come." He grumbles, as he pulls her back into the shadows of the brush against the home by her shoulder but she doesn't know what he means until the blackness by the forest begins to move. "The devil is here."

Suddenly they're not alone in many ways, behind her the kitchen door has opened and in the time it takes for her to look back towards the forest, Remus had flown out of the house like a bat out of hell, approaching straight to the shadow that grew more and more physical by the moment. The event will precede in harsh whispers as not to disturb the home, but loud enough for the shadowed few to hear.

"I liked you better in scrubs." Remus will comment harshly as Severus stops with his feet together, his moonlit form now dressed in black robes that brought back a sense of nostalgia to Hermione as she stood silently with her back against the home. "It's hard to think you're dying now."

Her professor remained silent, perhaps because his voice had yet to return, the nothingness fueling a frustrated anger from Remus whose fists balled.

"For years I wished you'd be silenced by your transgressions and now, here you stand before me but hardly my wish is made. Scarred and silent but alive nonetheless while my own family and most loved rot in graves and under stones too premature for the age… But you lived through it all... What a joke life has cast upon me."

The silent man attempts to move by and towards the home but a sharp forearm to the chest stops him, forcing Snape back with a sharp huff. Hermione bites her lip as she feels George's eyes land on her, chaining her to the spot.

"And with such brazen steps you take across the land you helped taint as if you honestly believe your presence has been forgotten and the ground is not forever stained by your evil."

But what is Snape supposed to say if he could say anything? What is the man supposed to do but take the lashing of the broken? He never killed Sirius… in fact, he begged the Dark Lord not to kill Lily. He was there after the Dark Lords demise and cleared the space for Hagrid to take Harry safely away while his shoulder was turned. He'd done his job at Hogwarts, he had tried to train her friend who refused to learn and used his magic when Harry needed to be saved… _She_ had set him on fire… Hermione looks away of the scene before her, suddenly ashamed as she, at that moment in her first year, accidentally aided Voldemort when she set the man ablaze.

"Go off now." Remus is taking his new found strength against the man broken by his mute and weak stance to shove the Professor back with another heavy shove. "Go find your way back to your grave and this time stay there knowing not a soul wants you alive to breathe the air you don't deserve."

Another attempt to move forward is met with another harsh shove that Severus will take with another two steps back and with grit teeth and a downward cast gaze. Uncharacteristic of the natural aggressor she knew him as Hermione goes to take a step that George will attempt to stop… But it wasn't his hand that caught her and it wasn't his pull back that prevented her from taking another. It was a third voice that came from the silence as another figure broke the darkness with wand already pulled and aimed.

"That's enough, Remus."

If Remus could pale he would have… and perhaps he had but the moonlight wasn't bright enough so no one could really tell… But when the man's stance fell did Hermione see the fault.

"Tonks…." He whispers her name.

It was as if hell broke loose in all its unholy chaos as Remus looked, just once, from Tonks to Severus before he outright attacking him. And by attack, there was no magic or pulling of wands, instead, a knife blade shimmers before diving itself into the flesh of the standing.

The first swing is knocked as the blade slices the arm of the silent who hissed in pain as he blocks the abdominal aim.

"You! You show up with _HER!_ Of everyone left your taunt me further!"

Another wild swipe from a broken heart makes contact again before Tonks has the opportunity to disarm and Severus changes his stance with his hand holding his bleeding arm. She knows it bleeding because even from the distance can she see his coated fingers.

"Expelliarmus!" Tonks casts and the knife goes flying but is the last thing on Remus's mind.

So, now weaponless but with a pain that radiates like fire under a moon whose face is almost full, Remus goes for the throat with hands he wishes are claws in the silence now broken.

"I should have killed you!" Bloodied hands wrap around the wrists of the fingers that grip his collar as Tonks runs forward and pushes Remus back. Why he has yet to fight back is Hermione's greatest question but she knows better than to ask what she promises she'll bring up later.

"Remus! Enough!"

"Oh!" Remus bites, releasing the scruff of Severus's collar with another hard push back and turning on Tonks like a rabid dog. "You think you can still tell me what to do? I gave everything up for a woman who ran off!"

"We… We lost our son and.."

"And you thought you were the only one who couldn't cope?! So you thought I'd be best losing both of you.." He looked back at Severus. "Just so you can end up with him,"

"I'm not _with_ , him!"

"Who have you spent the last day in the company of?"

"Well…. Severus… But.. He needed a favor." Tonks defends as she looks at the man who holds his arm tightly.

"So you just did it? The ghost of the git who killed everyone shows up and you just do whatever he wants? Sounds like more loyalty you gave me?!"

"Remus!"

"Get out of here…. Both of you!"

"Remus…"

Another voice, something softer.. Molly, clad in a light pink bathrobe is shuffling across the grass and over to the arguing pair… "Why do I smell fresh blood. If anyone were to leave it would be the one who opens the most recent wounds. You don't get to make these decisions, Remus. This is my house, and I say they both can stay." She looks between the pair before settling on Severus.

"You. Come with me. We need to rewrap your hand and I need to tend to whatever had happened since…"

Suddenly very childlike, Remus let out a very heavy sigh, "But, Mol-"

"I'll hear none of it, Remus! You best be off until I think of what to do with the violence that has just taken place. Tonks." Her voice lightens just so, "It truly is great to see you again… It's been a long time. It seems all my waywards find their way back and I'm happy you are one of them… Even if it's just tonight. Would you like to come in?"

"Yes. I would. Thank you, Molly." There was ice in her voice as she glared at Remus who looked back hurt and rather betrayed as she followed behind Severus who was already destined for the doorway.

"And Hermione, George, come inside both of you before you catch your deaths."

Hermione used to think that Snape could see through shadows. That he took roll call every moment of his life and nothing evaded his scope of paranoid knowing but when he stopped and turned around, first to Molly then to where she was looking, she sees him see her. He looks at her before he shakes his head and picks back up his pace with a faster step. Once inside, Molly would catch him in the kitchen by the sleeve of his robe and would guide the man who went without a fight over to the kitchen table where he gave up the privacy he sought behind the green door. Hermione would find herself coming through the door last, just in time to see Remus shove by the rest and disappear upstairs and for George to lean himself against the counter as Snape was pointed to a chair he'd pull out as Molly magicked over the medical pouch that flew out from another room. The smell of fresh blood was in the air and now in the light she could see his stained and dripping fingers. The kettle was put on and a chair placed before Severus's open legs, his eyebrow curving as the woman lay all of the supplies on the table beside them before he lands in the seat.

Molly quietly begins with an explanation of what is to come, "We'll share some tea as I wrap your hand and then we can all call it a night. Tonks, dear, you can have any of the open rooms, George will be happy to show them to you."

Tonks, whose hair was as red as her cheeks had settled in the seat next to Hermione at the table across from Snape and Molly and gave George a small smile. "How you've been?"

"About the same." He shrugged and she shrugged back but gave him a small smile in return.

"It's good to see you." She whispers.

He doesn't respond, instead, George looks down and crosses his arms suddenly chilled with a past he tried never to think about. But Hermione is looking at Snape. She's watching the dampness of his palms and the looseness of his jaw. She notices his face is slightly dampened with sweat and for the first time he notices he carries a bag that he's slipped off his shoulder and placed out of view on the floor. But she won't say anything, she'll just watch as quiet as she can as Molly unbuttons his sleeve and pulls the fabric back exposing two extremely deep knife lines that bubble over with blood.

"I hate kicking people out…" She says with a sigh, "But Remus is out of control and I can't have this happening here."

She'll go on to dab and stitch and wrap the arm that now shares more scars with the slices across the Dark Mark as Hermione watched Snape wince but never pull away. The arm isn't flipped and the scar isn't shown, but it's his left arm and everyone knows what Molly is avoiding as she works sewing the wounds together and dabbing the skin that would quickly start to regenerate. The attention of the room isn't on such mortal slices but what lay beneath the stained tan bandages of his hand and when Molly travels down his arm and the hand is raised, so is the heat of the room.

Molly's fingers will hover but a moment before tension is interrupted by the screaming of the tea kettle, something that no one wants to address as everyone wants to watch, but George will step away from the counter and magically address the pouring of tea and the placement of cups and saucers that will float through the air and land before each person. Molly adjusts in her seat and exposes his hand into the candle light and goes back to work. The wrap is yellowed and red, blood and infection is exposed to those around and while George adjusts his stance with one leg crossing over the other, Molly sighes and takes from her tea as she thinks before starting confidently.

"It's nothing I haven't dealt with raising boys… But Severus… Have you changed this..?"

Slowly, he shakes his head no, refusing to look at his lost appendages his eyes are cast on everywhere but the wrapping. He locks eyes with Hermione briefly before looking away, she feels bad for him as it seems that to him anything is better than the truth of what he has yet to accept..

"Alright. Stay still.. This.. This is probably going to hurt but… not anymore than the arm... or anything else you've pushed through."

Slowly, Molly unclasps the holders, two little metal things with sharp tips that she places on the table. The once tight bandage almost unravels itself but Molly will be there to pull back fabric that sticks together by the dried blood. The further unwrapped, the more a particular smell begins to come forth, something so pungent that even he glances down. Another layer is unraveled before Molly speaks again.

"Whatever you've chosen to take to subdue your trauma has taken its own life in rot, Severus. This isn't good… And I say that without having yet seen the actual wound."

Another layer unwrapped and Severus has done his rounds and his eyes have landed on Hermione again, this time holding before flicking to Tonks. Another layer, and now there isn't much left and the room will stay silent as Molly waits, her hand hovering before unsticking the final hold. What Severus wouldn't see, because he wouldn't look, was simply gore. Blackened rot has taken the flesh sewn together by thick black threads that tie the flesh at the top of his knuckle. The smell is putrid as grimey yellow pus oozes free, slipping down his wrist into the cloth Molly used to wipe it away. She makes a displeased noise as she takes another sip of tea perhaps to settle a wrapping stomach. Hermione does the same as she looked away, her own stomach gurgling and raising into her throat.

So now they all are drinking their tea. Something warm against the chill of the outside while they gather in the cocoon of a warm home against the world. Molly sighes and has been wiping numbing cream around his hand as the room waits. She's cutting the rotted threads and flaying the dead and rotting skin away. Eventually, Hermione sees fresh skin but her stomach churns again when she realizes that what she saw wasn't skin, but knuckle bone. She uses the drink to swallow the dinner from earlier but when she looks back up she meets eyes with the professor whose glaring at her.

"Does it hurt?" She choaks out and his expression will turn quizzical before shaking his head no.

"That means the numbing agent is working," Molly smirks as she slips the thread through the remaining flesh, sewing the wound together smoothly.

"Mum's always been good at stitches." George will whisper.

"I grew up raising sons." Molly sighed with a small, but very real smile as she thought back. "Two of which were particular terrors of experimentation."

This would quiet George again but the room had changed for a warmer feel as Molly placed down the sewing needle and picked up a fresh, still rolled bandage.

"Alright, Severus. You'll stay here the next few days and we'll change this again. You need to start giving it breathing time soon….so…" She shrugged, her expression turning serious as their eyes met and held, "You're going to have to get over whatever distaste you have because this infection is serious and will not go away overnight."

They held attention on each other before he gives a small but sure nod as Molly tightly wraps the wound layer on top of layer.

"It's going to hurt, but I'll give you something for the pain since," She shrugged, "you won't ask for anything anyway."

A final wrap, clasp, and she taps his wrist before he lets him go. The tea is gone and Snape is raising from his seat, clearly unhappy about the public display of his downfall but Hermione has questions and perhaps was being selfish that she's calling care. She'll see him stop before the threshold and turn back to Molly who will look up from her cleaning up and with a sense of respect, Snape nods his head which makes Molly smile.

"You're welcome. I'll give you some painkillers in a bit after I clean up here. Okay?"

He looks at her before giving a nod before turning around and staring away and up the stairs. And she's behind him... remembering what George had said and knowing he's watching her now as he had the entire time so when she sees Snape open the green door she moves past him and keeps going up the stairs and slips into her own space where she'll keep the door just slightly open. She hears George show Tonks the room above hers and waits as he passes back down. She'll wait a bit longer until she assumed Molly passed him medication and she waits until the house is quiet and still before she slips from the space she sleeps in and creeps down the stairs. Yes, George's door is closed and she'll travel the next couple steps until she stops before the pale green door. With the air caught in her throat and her questions driving her further, she raises her hand and knocks her first against the wood. It's late, and for a moment she worries he's asleep.

"Professor?" she greets and asks at the same time when the door opens suddenly, exposing the man who no longer stood in scrubs but still stares at her in garb of drenching blacks. His head cocks, his eyes narrowing, the black hair falling before his face as the smell of food drift through the blackness between him from inside room.

"I was wondering." She starts slowly. "Can we talk for a moment?"

His eyebrow curves and he stares at her condescendingly and she understands because they both know he can't actually talk... But he then looks in either direction on the stairs before opening the door just a bit more and letting her in with a dark nod and a dull gleam in his eye. The way he holds the door forces her to go under his arm, which will make her heart skip a beat as the fabric of the robe grazes are arm as she passes under him. She circled him like a dangerous tiger, her eyes scanning the dark room, her attention noticing the bag from earlier on the floor now by his bed and a tray of food and blended drinks sitting on the desk by the window. Besides that she didn't see anything personal and the bed is yet to be disturbed. When she finally looked at him again he was already looking at her, stepping away from the door, keeping space as she did with him. They stared at each other, a sense of strange in the air.

She speaks for them both, "This is odd."

He nods slowly, his eyes keeping on her.

"I think the last time… anything where we stood like, this you were yelling at me and taking house points away."

What was that? The room is rather dark and she was too tired but had he just smirked? He nods and she looks around but he's taken her thoughts and a quill is raised from the desk she stands nexts to and twitches before resting, letting her know if he wants to communicate he will. But he's quiet, always has been and probably always will be.

"I just… I just wanted to check in, I guess." She felt incredibly stupid as his eyebrow curves, his cold expression cast in his own sense of impatient complacency.

"I'm being stupid…I'm sorry for even bothering you." She gives up and takes her first steps to the door destined to leave and spend the rest of the night swearing at herself but is stopped when she watches the lock flick and hears it click. She glances back and he's still there across the room and by the window. He's staring at her, his arms crossing but with her first step back away from the door she watches the latch unlock allowing her to leave if she wishes but giving her the sense he wasn't kicking her out.

Talking to Snape was different in many ways and on very many different levels. The sense of death created something new, a fresh form of human that she could displace from her childhood while at the same time the feeling of small nostalgia washes over her as standing before such a man always weakened her spine. But there was something different, she was older and where she stood now she felt the same zoo sensation she felt earlier… Like, instead of this being a potions teacher, this was some creature out of Hagrid's cage of wondrously dangerous but tamed animals. The quill raises and she glances down at the paper.

 _Are you just here to stare, Granger?_

Writing dwarfed the sense of impatience and the looming frustration in the man's expression. She could read what he had to say how she wanted to hear it and there was no yelling, just a question presented by a hostile animal.

"I guess it's still shocking to me. I thought…." She looked at him. "I thought you were dead."

He shrugs and she nods adjusting her feet.

"I guess… I just wanted to ask why you didn't fight back when Remus…" Her words fade again but Snape's eyes turn toward the quill and she watches the script write itself as its prompter waits across the room.

" _Because I have nowhere else to go."_

She stares at the words on the page for longer than necessary because she didn't want to look at him. It was a hard truth that she hadn't really thought about but something that stood before her now. When she does look, she eyes his arm and this too he will see.

"I'm sorry." She whispers and when she looks up he's not looking at her but looking out the window instead.

It's late, he looks tired and she feels exhausted herself though she had hardly done a thing that day…. But still she feels better than she had before for no other reason than because she knew he was back.. She had spent the night watching his battles and Molly work on his hand. It was all abuse that perhaps he had earned… but her mind was quiet now and she felt somehow at peace.

"Good night. Professor.." She whispers as she takes the first step toward the door.

Slowly he turns his attention to her, his expression turning to stone as he nodded his head. She'll slip toward the door, cracking it open and slipping out, leaving the man the do what he will in the safety of a home that would protect him.

 **Snape**

He didn't mind that Granger stopped by, and even less so because she stayed for such a short period of time. When she was gone he was under the bed pulling out the potions he had taken from the house that would help him sleep. He had thought about Lucius and would go and see his longest time friend but not for a while. Perhaps he'll send Tonks with a message, but he knows he must tread lightly and perhaps stay hidden for the next few days. He also knows Lucius will come hunting if he waits too long... That man was predictable, and he and Ms. Granger were closer than ever when at Ministry.

Regardless, he had somehow picked up Granger's attention along the way, the last person he'd imagine would darken his doorstep just to inquire on his emotional state. But she had done just this, more than once... and because of this, he hadn't lied to her because he didn't need to. It was true and as an adult and everything she had gone through she deserved if anything else just that, the truth that he would openly write down for anyone else to read. But not that paper, that paper with his confession written upon it in magic would burst into flames where it lay and turn to ash so that he wouldn't have to see it ever again.

That night, he'll take the potions Molly had given plus a few he had taken from his house. He'll stare at the pouch of his past addiction for a very long time as he also stares at his hand for some while, while realizing how much he wants someone to come back to his door to distract him from the silence. It was the hardest part of the hours awake and with no school work to slave over he had nothing but the past before him. He'll fight it though, he'll fight the shaky hands Molly didn't mention and the sweat that had been dripping down his back, shivering his spine the entire night. Now in the room he couldn't rationalize why he took the pouch but refused to admit perhaps he couldn't control it.

Reality is dawning, and he doesn't like one damn minute of it.


	5. To Return From Waiting

A/N - I'm always looking for a beta! Even just for a chapter! But yeah, with every chapter I try and go back to past chapters and edit them the best I can. Because this story is written as it goes there are small, almost irrelevant points to make other plot points fit. Nothing huge, just grammar... some ideas... ect.. I also have Dyslexia, so.. I try. Have fun!

* * *

 **To Return From Waiting**

Early Monday morning Hermione will go to work as she's supposed to however heavily the heels of her shoes would drag or the weight in her chest that sits just under the blouse and purple robe/suit set she wore. She didn't hate her job… She hated the people she worked with. Today she's to visit the Gomorrah business and bar, _Tullys._ Something about magic and muggle mixing she knew she wouldn't get the truth about. It wasn't so much that she was Hermione Granger, aid to the slay of the Dark Lord, best friend to Harry Potter... It wasn't enough that she was Ms. Granger, Minister of Magic... Before anything else or any title given, she was just Hermione Granger the person, and she hated being lied to when she was just trying to do her job.

Just trying to do her job…...

She had stolen from Snape…. After that she lied… Before that she set him on fire...

Now she understood that it wasn't because he had another reason to try and expel Harry, but instead it was because everything in that closet had been meticulously counted and funded by the Ministry. If something was missing he was blamed, his job was put on the line, he was seen as incompetent... as a danger to the school. Hermione sighs away her thoughts of the man who hadn't been seen yet that day as she steps into the small crowd that made up the Ministry elevator box.

Children are selfish things….

Minutes later she's stepping out onto one of the upper floors and she looks both ways down the wooden paneled corridor before starting down the sparsely populated hall. Her heels click against the floor, one, two, one, two with every step she takes but the further she goes, the more empty the hall becomes before it's just her and the scattered office doors.

One, two.. One, two.. One, two.. One, two.. One, two.. One, two…. three..

She stops and glances behind her. There standing alone at the end of the hall that seemed just a bit darker then when she passed through was Lucius Malfoy, the tip of his cane landing against the marble for the second time as his feet land together. The two will stand apart for a moment before Lucius approaches with his first step, their eyes never falting. When she sees he is indeed coming her, she takes a deep, readying breath and squares off, toes pointing toward the man who slowly but intentionally continued to walk towards her.…

"Yes, Mister Malfoy?" she asks with her breath out, already planning her first drink once she reaches her office.

The man was older these days though not any less sharp, but today he looked different. Younger, brighter… not joyous bright.. But brighter for a man like he was naturally. Calmly he approaches, his cane clicking just out of sync with his heel like a creature with three sharp tipped legs, his eyes hungry and full of intent.

"Ms. Granger." He starts slowly, his voice a dark pur that resigned itself in the shadows of her childhood. "I have something I'd like you to deliver."

She runs her fingers through her hair and glances over her shoulder to where her office sits down the hall and out of sight around the corner. Shaking her head she turns back to the senior Malfoy.

"I'm sorry, Mister Malfoy... I'm just really busy today and I just don't have time to run errands."

He's closing in on her now, only feet apart and still he takes another step closer. "You have me mistaken, Ms. Granger. _This_ , is more a personal matter that would prefer to be handled off the clock of government knowing.."

She understands the moment she sees the envelope. It's a tan, square casing with an ashy, black writing that spelled out a name that brought her heart to skip. Her eyes watch the lettering light up like fire against gunpowder and when the flames subside the envelope is clear topped and nameless.

"Mr. Ma-"

But she's alone. She looks either way as if he could sneak up behind her, but no…. he was gone and somewhere in the back of her mind a headache starts setting in. Her arm drops to her side, the envelope held in her hand.

"Yeah. Okay, fine." She whispers to herself as she turns to continue on her way, but the moment she whispers these words, the echo of his cane is heard from very far down the hall.

Somewhere from deep inside her, Hermione couldn't help but smile at the predictable antics of the man as she turns and continues on her way to her office, destined to go through the files and familiarize herself with the day to come over a hot of mixed coffee.

…..

That late afternoon, after strainful back and forths until lies were caught and disgruntled conversations were had over official papers, Hermione stands outside the door of her little cottage with frazzled hair, tired eyes and a crooked tie. She pats Crookshanks who has met her at her arrival and once inside he waits for her to fill his bowl although the cat would rather prefer to hunt. In her exhaustion, she forgets to place the bowl on the floor and settles on the cat eating on the counter, "just this one time" as she walks past the briefcase she had placed on one of the chairs that sit tucked into the table that was too piled high with papers. She grabs a beer from the fridge on her way into the the shower to wash off her day and it's stresses in hot warm water. She hadn't thought about the encounter with Lucius all day but showers always held a magic to bring up thoughts that had been misplaced. She'll peek out from behind the curtain and onto the pile of clothes that's still on the bathroom floor, her eyebrow curving as she knows the letter Malfoy had given her sits in an inner pocket of the traveling cloak. She'll finish quickly with her washing before stepping out into a warmed towel. Distracted by her hair, in the mirror she works her curls in a way where it was easy to comb later…. Whenever later was.. Curly hair was always so annoying… no matter what world you lived in it's always uncontrollable unless she wanted to put an hour into a processes.

Early that morning Molly had alert everyone that Ginny was returning from her latest game and would be home that night. Hermione planned on using this to get Ron to go home and figured if she got him to drink enough that he'll go willingly and be social enough. Maybe she'd pry about the things she thought she should know but never thought about until Arthur brought them up. Where did Ron live? She didn't ever remember being brought to his home… Just here… Maybe she remembered going to his flat…. but that could only have been when they were both stumble drunk and she wasn't focusing. When he was at her home he rarely stayed in the morning and always walked off muttering about how he was just too damn busy these days, leaving a very tried her to drift off simply because he left so early every time…. But with what was he so busy with? What was his job..? She didn't know...

With these thoughts of wonders come a small realization of a fog she didn't realize had been there. Had she just never asked? Had she allowed his distractions to work all this time…? What was this? Dinner, an event…. and then back to a bed to shag just to leave very early that morning….? As the hot water dripped down her body she looked at the already half empty beer bottle that sat on the counter next to the sink and suddenly felt very dirty and quickly wiped away the rest of the water with the towel she'll drop as she grabs her evening outfit off the hook that hangs on the back of the wooden door. Where had she been these last few years….? People around her were getting married. Hell! Even Draco was getting married! And where had she been all this time? Floating? She enters her bedroom and glances over to the corner by her bed where dark glass bottles stood in rows.

Bottles…

Bottles by her bed. Bottles on her desk… bottles on the floor, and a few in the trash… Turning from the bedroom her evening wear wraps around her body as she hurries to the kitchen. Alcohol touched nearly every glass in the sink that she had been too lazy to even use magic to clean. Stepping away from the mess, she's leaning against the kitchen table that was stacked with files and papers she saw regularly but never registered once placed. With one hand on her chest, Hermione feels the air trap in her throat as she tired to reason and remember where this all came from. It had been slow... Papers stacked one at time, folder by folder… The bottles gathered because no one stopped them…

A tear begins to welm in her eye because if you had told her that she would have ended up like this five years ago…. well, she wouldn't have believed you one bit…. But here she was. Alone with a cat and the discarded memories of her nights before…. Walking back through the kitchen and into the bathroom, she pulls herself to the sink and goes into cabinet, taking an orange pill bottle from the shelf and opening it. The white pills are from her psychiatrist, a muggle answer to a both world problem. She takes two and washes them down with a small glass of water that sat by the fawcett and waits for the effects to kick in. For a moment she thinks of Snape and if he has a remedy with less side effects but she'll shake her head and the thought away.

With a sigh she looks at herself in the mirror and gives herself a weak smile.

"Okay, girl," She tells herself. "It's time to wake up…Tonight's the night."

Back in bedroom she's waved her wand and the bottles have lifted. Her clothes were taken off her bed, chairs and scattered places and put away accordingly though most were dirty and ended up in the hamper. Books float back on shelves and trash collects in the trash can that will take itself out into the kitchen. She does this with her eyes closed, listening to the clinking of glass and the patter of various placed items and after a minute she opens her eyes and looks at a spotless, organized room. Landing on her bed, she pulls a small, metal backed, black screened cell phone from the bedside table drawer and pressed the side button until the screen lights up. A minute later, she had dialed the only phone number she knew these days.

"Hi, mom." She smiles as she hears her mother's voice greet her back.

"Hermione! Oh it's great to hear from you. How's work? When are you coming for dinner?!"

She couldn't remember that last time she had gone for a full dinner and also felt bad for this. "I was thinking sometime this week. I've got dinner plans with Ronald tonight."

"Oh! When are you two going to make things official? I want grandchildren."

"Mom.."

Her mother's comments struck a little deeper than what was probably meant and she was happy her mother couldn't see her shifting on her spot off the edge of her bed or the frown that took over her expression.

"I don't think I want to continue things with Ronald."

"Oh… Honey, why?"

She thinks, but the answer has been on her mind for the last few days so not much thinking is needed. "Because I don't think he wants to make things official… I plan to ask him tonight but…. I just wanted to tell you, I love you."

"We love you too, Hermione." Her mother's voice faltered. "We've always been so proud of you. We always will be. You deserve someone who will dedicate to you."

"I feel that way too."

"Well, sounds like you already know what you want. Just keep your chin up. I know he's your best friend but if that's all you'll ever be, maybe it's time for you… I don't know.. to be a youngn."

Hermione paused. "What do you mean?"

"You grew up so fast." Her mothers voice suddenly sounds very sad. "Amidst battles and distractions, I fear you were never able to be a… you know…"

If only she knew...

"A child." Hermione answers.

"We love you, Hermione."

"I know mom. I love you too. I'll call you after dinner." She promises sobriety and to not end up as she had every other time with Ron.

The phone call would end rather quickly after that and Hermione would land the phone on her lap, her fingers tapping over the glass top of the device as she thought. Checking the clock she decided she would eat ice cream out of the catron for a bit as she messed with her hair and make up as she readied herself for her date; repeating over and over again the conversation she would have with Ron about all the secrets her best friend was keeping from everyone. She promised herself if they were to go anywhere, it would be his home and she wouldn't stay the night. She promised herself she'd be back at her hut by the end of the night, work the next day and then she'd go to the Burrow and talk to Harry about her findings with Ron. Best case scenario, just maybe she'd be able to have him come with her to the Burrow where they all had questions they wanted to ask the youngest son. Before leaving, Hermione slipped the cell phone into her purse, a reminder to call her mother, a catalyst as to not drink so much.

Dinner with Ronald was always set in a busy restaurant that was never in London. He wore robes more suited for himself but robes that reflected a home life and not so much ministry wealth like she would wear. There was a patch of dust on his lapel he hadn't noticed but his hair was done nicely and he wore a tie that wasn't crooked. He told her he loved the place, but always complained even though he always got the same thing. She hadn't noticed this before… but usually they would drink a lot and tonight she watched Ron continue a standard habit. Tonight though, Hermione kept her stance secure. They had talked about Ginny and her game but when she brought up going to the Burrow he went quiet and put his attention on his drink and the more mouth filling mashed potatoes. He'd give her a shrug and so she moved on.

"Ron, I was thinking maybe we can go over your place tonight?"

He almost choked, his back straightening. Not a good sign…

"W..What?" He asked her, tilting his head to the side.

"I just.. Have never been to your flat."

"Yes you have..."

"Maybe... but I have no recollection and we were probably pretty drunk. I just.. you know. Maybe we could have a nightcap at your place?"

"You haven't had very much to drink tonight."

He didn't look at her when he spoke, his eyes cast down on his fork as the tines pushed their way into his meat. Speculation against speculation, Hermione suddenly felt uneasy.

"Ron?"

He shakes his head and talks to his plate. "It's not a good night for that…"

"Why?"

He pauses, raising his eyes. "I just had the place reroofed and the smell of tar is toxic so it wouldn't be safe for you."

'So.. you just assumed you'd go back to my place?"

He blinks at her, his composure walling up with every second that passes.

"How's work?" She asks.

"What?" He asked her, a passive aggressive back and forth forming across the table.

"Work? How is it? How was your day? It must be the drink but I don't remember you saying what exactly you did?

"I've told you. I'm a business manager."

"What business?"

They stared at each other, the tips of Ron fingernails tapping against the table top.

"Repair." He pushes out in a tone that sounded forced.

"Ron-"

"Hermione where is this coming from?"

Slowly she lowers her fork onto the plate, touches the napkin to her mouth as she formulated sentences before staring.

"Ron. I would like to make things finally official between us. Take the next step, so to say."

"Next step?"

"We'll.. We've just been doing this for awhile now and even the papers assume-"

"Ron Weasley, is that you?"

The answer to her problems seemed to come in the form of a very American sounding voice that came from behind them, but it was a voice that striked a reaction from Ron that Hermione wasn't expecting. A woman steps up, crosses her arm and huffs, a dark smile playing on her lips as Ron seemed to shrink away into his seat.

"Hi!" She looks at Hermione, eyes widening. "By Merlin's beard, you're Hermione Granger! It's great to meet you face to face."

The girl was their age and had long blond hair and if Hermione was to guess, a Ravenclaw, but she didn't remember this particular student at all during her years... She smiled a warm, genuine smile at Hermione as the two shook hands before she turned back to Ron.

"Ron! I thought you told me and Gwen that you were going to see Harry?"

"Harry couldn't make it to dinner."

"Harry wasn't invited." Hermione said bluntly only earning herself a wider smile from the woman who hasn't introduced herself.

The two stare at each other but Hermione would be the first to talk which was to no one in particular.

"Whose, Gwen?"

"Ronald!" The girl scolded as the red hair paled the gauntness of death. "You haven't told Hermione about your fiance!"

"F...Fiance?" Hermione's mind sort of cracked in that moment, a loud snapping noise that was deafening in her ears.

The woman on the other hand, seemed to have reached some form of empathy as she realized Hermione truly didn't have an idea of what was going on.

"Oh no. I didn't know you… didn't know…" Her voice quieter.

"Know what?" She looked at Ron who looked anywhere besides the the two of them.

"Oh.. Ron." The woman took a step back while Hermione waited, ignoring the fact she almost looked pleased. "I think you should tell your best friend about the girl you've been dating for the last two years and living with for the last."

"TWO YEARS!?"

Yes. She had been loud and she was terribly rude but… really? Two years! She stood up but catches her fury in the same bureaucracy coldness she used on her clients that she could also use in this moment.

"I apologize." She cleared her throat while refusing to sit. "But I think I'm going to leave.." She started away from the table but stopped before she passed the woman.

"Thank you." She spoke up and the two exchanged glances before the world turned into a flurry that ended only once she pushed open the door of the Burrow.

The house she entered was so happy it nearly broke the last strain of defence that held her tears at bay. Her heart ripped from her chest as she watched Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sit close together on the couch and she bit her lip when she saw George with smile on his face as his sister stood leaning against him, her arms wrapped around him as they stood together. There was music, there was laughter and drinks, the house smelled wonderful and everyone was happy. Harry sat next to George and laughed with Luna who was wearing bright sunglasses even though she was indoors for reasons Hermione assumed was about something strange. She nearly bit her lip through as she moved through the basic hellos and right by everyone because she didn't want them to know of her heart break. Without knowing she had slipped into the spot of _the other woman_ to a man shallow enough to have another woman. But that man was their son and brother and this wasn't the time to mention the reason behind his secret life, however little she actually knew of it. Instead she coughed out that she was tired and that she would come down in a bit after she washed up and was dressed in something more comfortable. Something less tight around the waist, something that she could breath in.

She's up the stairs but drags her fingers along the wood of the green door as she passes it though doesn't stop and knock. She didn't see Snape congregating with the rest and only assumed he was in the room…. More like hoped... She hoped more or less than anything else though didn't know why but knew she'd knock on the door before she went and talked to the family. Maybe he wasn't the best person to vent too, but he liked to drink and she assumed she'd offer. Anyway, drinking in melancholy silence seemed a better place for her to be in than with joyous people as sober as she was and with her heart feeling like it was rotting in her stomach.

She loved Ron…

Maybe...

Did she?

They had been through so much together... But if you ever told her he'd up like this… she wouldn't have believed you one bit. All the thoughts are starting to hurt her mind and make her cry so she decides on bothering Snape for no other reason but that he was not like the others. So, she gets dressed, wraps herself in a comfortable, fluffy night robe, switches heels for slippers and slips the note from Lucius into her pocket and herself to the bed where she pulled a bottle of berry flavored hard drink from before starting out the bedroom. She's destined for the empty staircase and the lonesome green door. But when she gets there the door is opened, just cracked with a border of blackness around its edges. Hermione waits a moment before knocking on the door frame instead of the actual door itself... Nothing. She pushes the door and peers in while standing on the outside and indeed the space is empty. She shifts her feet before she hears the tapping of feet from below. Watching, she almost smiles when the form of her Professor turns the corner, stopping instantly to stare at her. He was holding a cup of purple liquid meal and seemed to sigh before taking another three steps closer and stopping a respectful distance away, refusing to move closer. She lifts the bottle, gives it a wiggle and the Professor dips his head, gives another sigh out his nose and nods his head, ushering her into the room with a wave of his hand. He doesn't close the door though, he leaves that to her but will notice when she does. He places the cup onto the side table next to the bed before eyeing her cautiously.

He was dressed in just a button down shirt that he has cuffed around the wrist though only tucked in at one side. He's wearing long, black cotton pajama pants. A single layer basic robe lay over his shoulders and his hood is raised... But there's no flowing layered fabric or a flurry of motion, just a man in a bathrobe whose skin of his neck and collar lay exposed for her to see. He wasn't wearing shoes again, just black socks, but he stood tall and on his own though clearly tired. The common casual composure came across as odd for Hermione.

"Come here," she motions him over to her far more confidently than she felt and when he moved to start over she stopped him.

"Bring the drink."

He does, with his eyes on her his hand drops behind him, his fingers wrapping around the top of the cup as he pulls the glass forward and off the table. He'll approach like a weary bobcat, each step intentional as he remained interested but aware of how strange the situation was. She shrugged her shoulder as she fell back against the desk with a humpf.

"You were right… about, Ronald."

This gets him. His attention is passively dedicated now and his eyebrow quirks as his hand extends and she opens the bottle top with a smirk then smoothy tops off his glass with a clear white layer he'll take and mix with a swirl of his wrist.

She takes a sip of her own straight out of the bottle. "He really is just a brainless olf."

The silence betrays her and she looks to see how he's reacting. His eyebrow is still raised and by now he's passed by her and started off into the room, taking time to drink when his back was to her. When he turned around to address her next, the glass he holds in his hand is empty. Watching him she sees him approach until he came up aside her, gently placing the cup on the desk. The flickering fire light casts over them both and he was close enough for her to see that the dancing of flames created waving shadows off the ravines of his scars while inky eyes reflected the single fire that sat in a massive, black cave. She looks away but when he raises before her he doesn't right away move which brings her right back to staring up at him.

He takes another half step closer and gives a nod of his head as he holds his hand out, his finger twitching for the bottle she'll hand by the neck of while his full hand took the body. He takes his step back, releasing the energy of a close space, his eyes dropping behind her that she'll follow to the scratching quill that moves against a sitting page of paper at her side. He takes another swig of the drink as the quill finishes.

 _You have something for me?_

Silence has finally touched Hermione as her lips touch the cold glass of the bottle once it's handed back by the Professor who wears an accomplished grin. Seemingly put in her place just as she was before only years later she sits and waits, her heel tapping against the leg of the desk before her hand drops into her pocket.

"It's from Lucius Malfoy…" She whispers as she handed him the envelope and again they'll exchange glances as he flips the envelope over, his fingers breaking the black wax seal.

The bedroom is something ordinary. There's a queen size canopy bed and a floor length mirror and because of its purpose it also has a private bathroom behind a wooden door that's cracked but whose space is dark. Across from the bed there's a small mantle that holds a small fire with a dark red couch that sits in front of it on a dark red tweed rug. Aside the mantle is the desk and Severus finds himself leaning against the puffy armrest of the couch with his ankles crossed as he slipped the page from it's package as Hermione took the chair out and sat on that. There's a moment of silence on Hermione's side as she watches him read while she takes a few more sips, his expression mute and hiding against any clues. She couldn't read his expression, the teacher's ability to hide himself was second nature and reading him, even for the likes of her who could see through a lie like cellophane packaging, was still something she failed at understanding when it came to this man. Eventually he'd fold the note and place it back into envelope before slipping the entire into his pocket and turning his attention back to Hermione as he moved off the couch.

 _Thank you._ The quill will scratch and Hermione hands him the bottle to keep him from pushing her out.

She liked the silence here, not just because the teacher is refrained from his insulting joists and jokes, it's the energy in the room that has kept to the same open air. He didn't pry, maybe he didn't even care. But this was a fluid feeling and just the distraction she felt like she needed. The way he looked at her assured her he was more amused by her presence than annoyed by it and by taking another heavy sip from the bottle he showed acceptance of her bribe. Taking even another sip before handing the bottle back, his eyes return to the page at her side.

 _Are you ready to take on the world outside yet?_

She smiled. Her heart had indeed slowed and the pain, though still there, was drowned. Looking at him, she clicks her heel against the floor before raising from the chair and back on her feet that felt far more solid against the ground. He'll take a third sip before he finally hands the bottle back, eyes narrowing and head cocking just slightly to the side. Taking the bottle she caps it and twists the top.

"Can I leave this here?" She asks. "I can grab it on the way back up."

She could feel his hesitation, emotions she was slowly realizing that he allowed to show at will so that those before him could keep understanding him. He could project anything specific or nothing at all, the choice was his and well mastered. He nods, and she places the bottle on the desk and backs toward the door, only speaking her final parting just before the door was closed, saying something she thought she'd never say.

"Umm. Thank you… Professor Snape."

….

By the time she reached the bottom step Hermione could say that, yes, she was ready to take on the world. At least, the one in the living room. The air was bright though the room was lit only by candles and a massive bright fire. The conversation was joyous and spectacular as everyone sat in chairs around the brightly burning mantle listening to Ginny as she told stories about her team and latest matches in America. Hermione leaned her shoulder against the doorway frame, taking in the warmth from a distance. She listened to Ginny talk about the game and explain the whipping sights and cheering fans with passion. Ginny talked about how she was helping at a hospital, seeing kids who wanted to meet their favorite team. The family laughed and went on as if they didn't know what kind of man their youngest son was, what kind of lies he had made and how she felt at that moment. She bites her cheek and tries to refocus and force herself happy.

At one point, from behind her a creaking comes from the stairs and she casually turns her head, already taken count of the room knowing only one person was descending. She locks eyes with Snape, now with his own bottle in his hand. He glared in her direction but neither said anything. She watched him sit on the step and realized he was there because he wanted to listen. He wanted to hear Ginny go on about Quidditch, and he wanted to be a part of something however disconnected he was while he did it. She grinned his way as he leaned his back against the wall, his feet resting out in front of him on the step, eyes on the wall infront of him.

"Oh! Hermione, you would love this!" Ginny would exclaim a few minutes later of stories, welcoming her into the group at last and causing those who sat around to look back and smile. No one asked a thing, they all just sat and listened to Ginny go on.

"If Hermione has taught me anything, it's to always know ALL of the rules, even the ancient ones. So, when Snow attempted to argue that the double hit off the ring was legal, I knew it wasn't."

"Yes! That made the paper." Molly chirped excitedly, "I remember reading about it. Oh, I have the clipping somewhere... You stood your ground, made them check their books-"

"And I was right!" Ginny finished for her mother with a small squeal. "I was right, they lost that point and I swear lost their momentum for the rest of the game."

"You've always been amazingly brilliant." George smirked as he slaps his brother Percy's shoulder as he passed the man on the arm chair. "I'm going to get more drink. Does anyone need a topper?"

"I do." A few voices are heard, and George will collect cups from Luna and Harry and his father before starting towards Hermione as he went to leave the room.

"Would you like one?" He asks in passing but instantly pales when he sees the creature in the stairwell looking up at him. "Either of you?"

Hermione would glance over her shoulder, the snarky man being his ill favorable self untwist the cap of the bottle of dark brown liquid that he took harshly from, not flinching his gaze from George until the burn of the alcohol would bring him to hiss and look away dismissively.

"Fine. Hermione?"

"I'll take a nightcap, please." She said with a genuine smile

"Right away."

Hermione turned back to the room but the tone had changed, Hermione only catching up when a familiar voice came from inside the room.

"Hermione. Tell that git to come in here."

It was Remus Lupin the passive voice would come from, right from behind the couch that kept its back to her. "I know he's there.. I can smell him."

The room was quiet for a moment before Molly sighed, "I would like to look at his hand."

So, apparently his keeper, Hermione stepped away from the threshold and looked behind her toward the man who gave her the inkling that he was nearly begging her not to encourage this.

"Professor, you're wanted."

The glare he gave her was nearly the bite he held in her childhood but alcohol does strange things to people and now although it seemed that he insulted her flat out, all she wanted to do was give him a smile. For some reason she felt like she disappointed him but maybe that was just the look he was giving her as, either way, she's give him a shrug in response.

Remus's voice would come dully. "Come on out you vampire bat… I know you're there."

She watched him stand and she'd never mention that she saw him trip over his own feet which meant they had a secret because no one else could have seen what she had. He didn't seem drunk as much as he seemed… lighter.. but Hermione had been there to see how much he drank when he was drinking with her. When he passed her he walked as if he were a disconnected soul walking within a balloon body. He didn't step into the room, but he did land behind her still in the hall.

"Come on." Remus urged, now standing from the couch, already turned to face Severus who clearly had yet to forget the other night and opted to use the innocent Hermione as a shield from any thrown knives.

"Come on, now." Remus urged again with an exasperated sigh and this time he would. "Someone's been asking for you."

With a cautious step, Severus would leave the protection of the hall and one silent step at a time walked into the living room.

Remus leans back on his heel and steps away, "Minerva… I'd like to reintroduce you to your potions master."

The entire time there had been a figure on the high back armchair that Hermione hadn't seen. A wordless, moveless creature that twist around the chair now and exposed herself. If the world could stop for any amount of time, it had. The mantle made no noise and not a candle flickered. The world inside was as silent as the grave and not an owl or a cricket could be heard through a window. It seemed even the ticking clock waited to see what would happen next. Minerva Mcgonagall, only five years older but far wiser than ever before raises from the armchair and steps forward. As she stares at the man she supposed was lost forever, Severus looked like every frightened creature Hermione had ever seen and apparently Minerva could read this too.

"Don't run." She speaks softly to the man who had already taken a step back. "Just wait."

"I think he's going to have a heart attack." Remus smirked a toothy grin as he looked over the sickly skeleton dressed in pale skin and black fabrics that stood cast in firelight.

"Severus…" Mcgonagall says his name again.

"Lets go help George with those drinks." Arthur would stand and say suddenly, his tone offering a suggestion everyone knew was not that.

The room emptied, but Hermione stepped back to the threshold after everyone had passed by, leaning against the outside of the door frame watching the two. She'd watch them hug and wonder what it felt like to hug Snape. She saw the Headmistresses tears drop down her cheeks and wondered how close they really had been. She heard him stiff back emotion and wondered how much the his death had hurt them both.

"How are you?" She touches his face, a move he repels from as if she were to strike him.

"Stop that."

They stare at each other in a moment of silence that just seemed easier than anything that could be said. She smiles a small smile at him and goes to touch his cheek again, this time he allowed the affection by dipping his own head in a sort of submissive shame.

"I know what you did... I saw that you deflected my spells in the Great Hall… You refused to fight me... I know it wasn't your choice to kill…Umm... I just want you to know, Severus… I missed you so much."

Hermione couldn't see the way he looked at her because his back to her her, but she assumed it was something close to what Mcgonagall expressed herself as. Something warm. Something like a sort of homecoming smile towards someone imagined as lost. A small smile of triumphant winnings against bets with the devil and the resolve of many prayers cast in lonely darkness. She touches him again as if to check to see if he's real, her hand wrapped around his bicep and running up and down his arm before she wipes her eyes again.

"I honestly thought…"

A move Hermione doesn't expect occurs. The professors arm has risen, the damaged one, and has landed over his colleagues shoulder, pulling her closer and into a very meant two armed hug where his chin rests on her head and he holds her tightly.

"I don't hate you." Hermione hears Minerva whisper and this is when she'll take her leave to the kitchen where everyone else is waiting in low conversation, the story of Snape being told to an eagerly listening, wide eyed Ginny Weasley.


	6. With the Turn From Night to Dawn

**With the Turn From Night to Dawn**

It's 2:30am.

Minerva has since gone home.

The common areas have since been abandoned and the fires have all been extinguished. The animals are fed, all the dishes are cleaned and last call was announced hours ago. Rain patters against The Burrow in a soothing ambiance that would lul most to sleep if rain and its tune weren't so common in these parts. The windows of the jagged twisted building are blacked out and sit as cold as the night sky or blades of dampened grass. The wind howls, and thunder growls. For most of the home the residents are asleep, tucked away in warm beds but there are those who are not though they probably should be. Most of the few have work come morning, but one has nothing at all. Behind the green door sits Severus Snape on the edge of the bed, his bent body is clearly shivering in the almost non-existent light. He's not in the armchair that sits before the fire because his eyes are sensitive and they hurt enough already. He's locked in a body that physically twitches and trembles, a body where he can feel his blood rush through his veins like water through glass tubes. He's unable to stop his teeth from chattering and his knees tremble on sore, springy ankles but he does run his drenched palms together as sweat droplets fall from the tips of his hair. The straightening of his cracking back will follow his sharp breath in through his nose as his arm raises to wipe away his face before his body doubles back over starting all over again.

He's not cold. He's sick. Goosebumps break out in waves across his arms and back, prickling his skin and sharpening his hair to a point and even though the hearth burns he doesn't feel the heat of the fire. Instead, he feels nothing but cold. He wants to lay down but he can't for the same reason he's not wearing a shirt. His skin is red and patchy and any fabric no matter how soft hurts and makes him feel like he were laying on patches of quill tips. He grits his teeth as another flash of burning radiates over his skin and he'll hunch his back from the force that pushes down upon him. He's so tried. He glances at the clock and counts the hours since he's last slept.

47 hours.

His eyes are bloodshot and his mouth is dry, his lips are pale and split. His cheeks are sunken from malnourishment which connects his facial scars into severe shadowy crevices that sweat uses like precut rivers. He takes a deep breath to fill his lungs with cold air in hope it chills his chest as he checks the glass potion vials that sit by his feet for what must have been the fifteenth time that hour, each go wishing and hoping above all else that there would be at least one pill remaining or a swig of something that would probably sink into his skin far before it hit his organs. He was out of everything he had snuck into the home and security had been too tight here to exceed what he was given. He was too smart to steal. He was out of everything but one thing, but that one thing is something he's trying very hard not to touch. He looks again towards the shadow cast closet that sits in a void of its own in the corner of the room they share. His vials were empty, the boxes were ripped apart, and there's even a few shattered glass pieces that he had knocked under the bed with his foot earlier. His stomach tightens, he coughs on a choking sensation and his mouth fills with stomach acid that he'll spit out onto the floor, half expecting the saliva mixture to burn away the wood or at least smoke just a bit.

It doesn't.

Why did he have to drink? He thinks as he cracks his back, and wipes his face again.

He can't even eat, what was he thinking?

These questions rotate in his mind over and over again. When he drinks he indulges in things that he shouldn't more so than what was usually safe. When he drinks he's a wreckless creature bent on retaining the grasp on comfort. When he drinks, the withdrawal of anything else is always worse.

Always.

Why did Minerva have to be come?

His heart had all but projected out of his throat the moment he saw her. He could have sworn he had already been walking away when she told him to wait and he knows he wouldn't have stopped if he had started. Damn it. He had frozen… Just like he had when he was a child and her angry yell would echo the Hogwarts hall.

He wasn't ready for all this.

He glances at the letter that sits beside him on the bedside table. He looks away and tries not to think of the man who he was sure knew whenever someone thought of him. He focuses on the rushing in his ears and tries not to hear the whipping of the snake that cracks from somewhere within his consciousness. His bones crack as he adjusts his back again, hearing the jaw of the snake biting down when the stretch reaches his neck. Within the pain so real, he feels the ripping of skin that does not exist. Opening his eyes, he's in the Shrieking Shack again... stuck in the moment unable to distract or pull himself out…

No. He's at the Burrow he reminds himself. Minerva had left a few hours ago after an hour or so of half hearted back and forth on paper. Perhaps that was because she could tell something was off about him because she didn't really seem like she wanted to go when she did. Of course, she'll sum it up to his trauma, but he hopes that she hadn't realized that his body was shedding the sudden withdrawal he had forced upon himself.

There is one thing that can make all this stop...

He lifts his head and eyes to the closet again, where on the top shelf, tucked as far back as he could into the darkest, furthest corner sits an old dosing kit of drugs that he absolutely refuses to take.

No..

He's is alone in a room that doesn't belong to him, in a home where more than half the occupants can't even decide if they want him alive. He wants to go home, but knows he can't. At one point, he finds himself hoping that that Granger would come and enquire for whatever reasons she had before, but bins the idea when that means he'll have to act before her... Or anyone... He couldn't just ignore the door… no... Not in this house and that girl wasn't one to just take a hint because she was still Hermione Granger…. Worse than that, she was diligent enough to see what Minerva didn't want to. Maybe...

His back cracks, he wipes his face and then he hunches over again.

He did this to himself, he knows… He had ran up the ladder of tolerance and dumped a high upon his mind that made him feel like he walked on clouds and think of nothing of the days to come. But with every day that came, a new memory was built, new conversations were had, and old faces emerged from the blackness of utter ignorance… There was in fact a world out there beyond this place where others lives ran unrelenting. How did he plan to live when he hadn't planned on living? Even in his childhood he hadn't planned on making it past his 30's…. But now…. He was what…. 42? Maybe…

His stomach churns and his ritual is continued by a violent expelling of fiery bile. The lucidity of himself in this world has spun his vision as his feet attempted to ground themselves against its bodys wishes. Slowly, his eyes lower to his hand, an appendage he never looks at. Three fingers. Tan, tightly wrapped.. Deformed. He can feel the migrain blaring like the horn of the Hogwarts Express and for a moment, for the first time since his bite, he blacked out. It doesn't matter how little of a time he blacked out for, blacking out just on it's own is enough for him because the next time he blinks, his fingers are touching leather and he's on his feet. He freezes, his breath catching as his eyes widened on the pouch he doesn't remember getting up to get. He's not on the bed where he had been, he's across the room and standing before the closet. Repelled, he throws it back up onto the closet shelf and went to pulling on a shirt while juggling his robe and shoes.

He had decided. It was time to leave.

Taking a stumbling step into the abandoned staircase he waits a moment, his ears picking up the noise of something he knew. The sound of an echod cry. He knows the sound because he's been a teacher and been a murder, he's heard the echo crying of children in the dark which sounds absurdly different from the cries of the knowingly dying and physically tortured. He knows the cry of despair and the sound of a breaking heart. He glances down to the kitchen before sighing and starting down the stairs.. He'll explore later, the climb is too arduous right now and the encounter too social so he turns away from the tears and slips, almost stumbles down the flight of stairs on weak and shaking knees. He holds his bandaged hand to his chest as his full fingered hand slipped along the smooth wooden bannister. He tries staying silent but he knows how hard that is in the state he's in so when he hears activity above him as he nears the ground floor, he readies himself, pulling inwards the chaos he feels and straightens his back and face. He hits the ground floor and is aimed at the front door.

"Where you going?"

Failed. Severus turns around to see the lonesome twin stepping from the stairway, slowing to a stop off the final step as he follows the man into the kitchen. Thunder rumbles, he narrows his eyes, but even though the twin is less than most of what he once was these days, he was still a fearless Gryffindor above all else.

"You keep coming back like you have nowhere else to go. Is that true?"

He makes no movement but George approaches eyeing the man up and down. He doesn't give him an inch of emotion but somethings, like the shivering, he couldn't control enough to stop.

"Are you high?"

He shakes his head no. He's not.

"You were."

The boy he knew when he was 11 now stood about the same height as he and he's bothered by the self-reflection that he doesn't remember when that happened. After a moment, he gives George a nod.

"And where are you going?"

He glances toward the door.

George bit the inside of his cheek. "Don't bring your shit in the house. You hear?"

He nods slowly and George stands awkwardly, seemingly not getting what he wants to maintain the drive to continue his interrogation. He just looks at his teacher over again before falling back a step and giving another nod.

"Remus was right." George starts once Severus's shoulder was turned causing him to stop and look back at the fuming twin. "You're doing this to yourself on purpose. Can't you see? You're a mess… You look like a mess. Worse off than any other time I ever remember seeing you. Why are you even… here…? Why do you think we _want_ you here?"

Silence became more and more of a hindrance the more he retained sobriety. When he didn't want to talk before or just never thought of anything worth trying to communicate, now he felt trapped in a blackness of nothing and lacking connection. He couldn't force his body to talk and without the ability to produce a conversation he felt weak and as if he lost every argument before it even started. Not allowing for anymore talk, he shakes his head and turns sharply on his heel, walking right out the door of The Burrow that opened for him and straight into the storming night..

...

Across the land sits Malfoy Manor, dripping from the rain that had passed, looking distorted a like a well done oil painting.

At some point with the death of the Dark Lord came the lightening of the property that even at night looked far less foreboding and more what he remembered from his childhood. Though the home was constantly occupied by evil, when pure evil left it took with it the aura of smog that made breathing just a bit harder. He won't make it halfway down the gravel, bush lined entry way before he's in another hug so suddenly, the soft arms of Narcissa around his neck, a new, warmer weight against him before he even heard a footstep.

"Severus!" Narcissa spoke in a violent fury of emotion and shock, backing up and touching his face, shoulders and chest as she fussed. He'd grab her wrists with both hands which brought her attention to his handicap that only made her fuss further and her face to drop. And he he'd let her. As he lets her wrists go he understands but the air was cold and rather quickly she picked up signs that made her frown.

"What's happened to you? Are you drunk?" Her hand is on his cheek again, eyes boring into his before she sighs sadly, "Oh, Severus….."

"Narcissa. Leave him be."

A voice from his childhood, one that came from a soul that knew all his most terrible secrets. He looks from Narcissa, his breath catching as she falls back, exposing the man to the owner of home.

"Severus." The blond man purrs his name, a small smirk upon his lips, a small pep to his approaching steps.

"You look… absolutely terrible." He says upon arrival, and his arm falling around the back of the man's shoulders, gently pushing him forward in a fluid movement. "Come. It's loud out here."

Narcissa near hung off his other arm as they walked, but placed between the two he couldn't shake a warm sense of home right there in that stroll.

"Lucius told me what he saw." Narcissa whispers as she glances around the night as they walk. "Truth be told I didn't really believe it.. But," Her voice catches as her grip on his arm tightens, "here you are."

There was a reoccuring habit he noticed. People would cling to him tightly these days when they would never have before. It was as if they expected him to float away like a balloon string out of the hand of a distracted child. That night with Molly when she told him to stay when she went to get something he could drink, he could see the literal fear in her eyes, as if he would be gone when she returned and she'd be left to assume it was all a dream. Granger hadn't been so physical, but she and Remus shared the eyes of someone who watched him take his first step from behind the veil again and again with every step he took. Like the image of a ball of ash floating through the air, if anything were to touch it, it would break into a million tiny pieces and vanish before their eyes. The way she held his arm and the tightness of Lucius's wing made him feel much the same way. Like he couldn't escape even if he tried. But, this felt warmer, like they actually missed him. Once inside, Narcissa would begrudgingly let go and wonder off another way than where Lucius was leading him, telling the men she was to step up drinks, allowing the two a bit to talk before she returned. In theses ways Narcissa reminded him of Molly. Always fussing over guests, always one to stumble over pleasantries for greater, more personal conversation.

And that's how he ended up in Lucius office with just Lucius, now releasing him that the door was closed. He seemed happy almost joyous in his stitched together his aristocracy.

"I knew it was you…" Lucius starts quietly with a wave of his hand that took from the grand oak desk a parchment, quill and ink that would land on a side table his magic had pulled between them. "I knew that was you with Tonks. You know that right?"

He nods, unsure of what to write yet.

"I feel within my heart you've come here for more than just introductions and pleasantries…" Grey eyes flash upwards and Severus nods.

"I will say, before we begin… I did miss you."

And then that was it. That flash of emotional admittance and Lucius had his walls up, stone walls that were unfamiliar to the man who is now adjusting his position uncomfortably.

 _I would have come here._

But where did you go instead?"

The quill doesn't move for a moment before lifting.

 _The Burrow._

Lucius is not as insulted as Severus would have assumed, or, at least he didn't show it. Severus does notice the attention on his hand and he'll nod and lift the appendage, showing off the mutilation under clear wrappings.

"You don't want to talk to me?'

Severus sighs as Lucius plays the all knowing big brother role, his eyes watching expectantly as Severus pulls away the fabric of his collar exposing his war scars. Satisfied, Lucius moves on, his eyes darkening.

"But you're not here for any of that.. Are you?"

Severus shakes his head no.

"There are things that you can't speak to Molly about?"

He nods, realizing in these moments how much weaker truly was now that he's next the man who revealed his darkness the most.

"Tell me."

The quill twitches and Lucius turns his attention to that which takes pressure of his slightly swaying form that Severus is all to aware of now as he stands before his shadow.

 _I need a fix. Something light. I have questions as well._

"You're detoxing?"

 _Elixir of Ice._

"Are you in pain?"

He nods.

"Beyond that of your wounds?

The quill pauses over the page.

 _I don't want to be alive._

"And the realization is driving you off the cliff. I see.."

No response, The quill drops and Severus looks away instead.

"I can't say my mind has been far kinder to me."

The door of the office opens at that moment, breaking the emotional binding both men are ready to move on from and Narcissa comes in with cups of tea floating behind her.

"Here." She waves his cup to him, her husband and then herself before landing in the large office armchair as her husband stays standing, his back leaning against the desk. "What did I miss?"

Lucius raises his hand and waves at Severus. "Our friend here went on a binge, is coming off and realizes the world had gotten no kinder and that nothing has swayed from the regular of day to day before he left.."

"Oh." She looked between the men. "Severus, you should drink your tea."

The way she speaks and the weight in her eyes propels him to the drink that which he would have left sitting before that point. He takes a sip. It tastes funny and soon he'll start to feel different. After a moment and a few more sips his eyes turn to the page, the quill rising.

" _Seeper. How'd you know?_

She smiled and Lucius huffed.

"I wouldn't be a good friend if I didn't know these things." She nodded.

Again, she could be so much like Molly…

In time, he can feel the seat under him… He feels the sunken cushion under his weight and he felt his feet against the hard floor. A small grounding is gained in a world he had floated through these past few days and feeling his body slipping off the cloud, the air he breathed somehow moved as a lighter sensation through sore lungs. As his toes wiggle in his shoes he suddenly can't remember the last time he felt a seat or mattress under him which confuses him as he runs his fingers over the chill wooden armrest that now feels so very... there. Dissociation washes away like the tide with every sip, leaving him in a room just a bit more dimensional than moments ago. If these two could tell right off first sight, than so could have Minerva and he felt like the fool he was that he hadn't realized this at the time. If he had, he wouldn't have stayed before the woman whom had stood before him… He had promised himself a very long time ago that she'd never see him like that... A promise that's been broken before, but has been again.

He writes slowly, " _What have I done?"_

"You've walked here." Lucius mutters.

 _It's a home._

"And the Burrow?" Narcissa asked, again knowing what she wasn't around to hear. Narcissa and Lucius were meant to be, soul connected he say. She'll love him even when the entire world won't and because of that he'll always love her. No conversation is a secret, their worlds bound.

 _Protection._

"Against what?"

"Against, _whom,_ my dear." Lucius purrs with another drink of his own tea, his eyes locked on Severus, pushing the man to take another sip.

 _That's something I want to ask._

"Then ask."

The room holds still for a moment before the quill lifts and scribes out Severus's thoughts.

 _Who were the men you were with the other night?_

The smirk Lucius wore wasn't anything overall happy. Expressive, Severus can read distaste with many reasons. Lucius didn't like the group, but he also didn't like that Severus knew nothing of those who seeked him out. He lets out a heavy sigh and adjusts, placing the cane he had lightly held on the desk before crossing his arms as he lowering to a full sit on the desk. With a single click of his heel against the wood of the desk, he exchanges a look with with his wife who looks away.

"I'll tell you what I know. But you won't like it."

 _Go on._

"Lucius…" Narcissa tone was weary.

He doesn't look away from the man before him.

"Yes?"

"I don't think you should."

"Why?"

Lucius was genuine in his interest. If there was one person in the world that he'd change the vast majority of his opinions and actions for it was his wife.

"Because you don't know enough yourself."

Infuriated, he almost felt his face turn red, Severus was on his feet and in such a fury that he tired to speak and object but when he opened his mouth a noise breaks his silence as a fire rips through his veins. He feels every centimeter of depth the pain will reach and he retracts away as violently as he entered... And so, many days later, Severus will stand sober in the world he entered just as violently. Pain will punish him into the space he stands as shocks of fire root him to the ground. He was aggressive again, fast footed and straight sighted. He didn't stumble nor trip when he stood, his knees were strong and he stood straight. Slowly, his fist loosened and his hand is at his throat. Taking a step away, he's embarrassed and defeated.

He can't talk... His hand…

He remembers these things as if somehow he'd forgotten them.

He frowns. He was not a thing that regrows appendages. The healing wouldn't fade away to fingers that would sprout like flowers. No…. The snake had done far to much damage…

"Severus." The voice sounds tunneled and Severus's wouldn't be able to say for sure who had spoken. His world has slowed and his eye are lowering as his wrist is raising.

He sees his hand that he holds before him. Three fingers accounted for, the last two, taken and devoured by the snake as he attempted to defend his throat. He sees the grey bandage wrapped tightly and clean. He bends each fingers, first this thumb, then his index, and then middle. But then he reaches his ring finger and nothing moves because nothing is there. He almost vomits.

"Mate?" Lucius spoke cautiously and this time he'd look up to see the man slipping off the desk.

"Severus. Breath." Lucius instructs.

But how could he? The room was so small all of a sudden, so dank, so void of air. He couldn't breath and later he'd be told he wasn't. He was slowly backing away, holding his breath in a throat with a vanished voice.

Where was he?

Yes. This was Abraxas old office. Yes, he's been here countless of times. He's been in the Malfoy Manor countless of times….. But _where_ was he? The room looks far more physical now, dimensional, which only made the space that much more claustrophobic. The quill won't raise but if there was anyone who knew the man it was these two, and that's why the door to the office is opened and Narcissa is rising from the desk chair.

"Let's go for a walk, hm?"

The walk held more of a patient and officer feel to it with Narcissa and Lucius strolling together keeping an eye on him from a few feet behind as Severus made his own way in front. The way was paved with white gravel walkways and the garden was a place that always brought peace with its floral arrangements and beautiful stone fountain. He'd walk ahead of them and at one point he'd stop and sit on the stonebench before the spitting fountain and koi pond pool where he sat watching the fish swim for a very long time. Eventually, Lucius would place his hand on the lower back of his wife and gently gives her a push, sending her off to fill a void he knows he couldn't.

"Severus." Her voice was soft and welcoming but went unacknowledged by the man who just sits there, hands on his legs, eyes on the water, hair falling over his face blocking the mute expression he undoubtedly wore.

She sits next to him and watches the fish for a moment, waiting for anything that she knows will not be spoken. He doesn't look at her, but she smiles when the weight and warmth of his hand is suddenly covering hers. Twisting her wrist she's holding his, and scooting closer, wrapping her arm around his, resting her head on his shoulder. He doesn't move and his eyes never leave the koi.

"I have something for you…"

He doesn't ask what it is, he just takes the vial from her hand and swallows it, caps it and hands it back in a swift, emotionless motion.

"We've missed you so much." Her quiet voice is a lovely melody in his mind. "Draco never accepted it… Like Lucius he was adamant you were still breathing…."

Silence.

"Did you know he's had nightmares about you…"

Something. A flicker of his eyes. A twitch of his head. She nods.

"Lucius. Something wild about operating tables and a beady eyed man with a bowler hat."

He's suddenly straightening up, head turning to fully face her as she straightened.

"I don't know much about those men." Lucius comes up from behind his wife and takes a seat on the stone barrier of the pond before them, blocking the view of the fish. "But I know only one of the five is magic and it is not the man who is the one who speaks for everyone else…. Which only concerns me further. Severus, what do you know?"

His wand is slipped from his side and he spells out what he wants to say in sparking green letters.

 _I woke in a hospital I know nothing about. I left easily. They found me once at the Burrow but were swarted.. The second was the other night."_

Narcissa's voice comes up again. "Have you… and pardon me if I'm out of place but… Have you spoken to them at all?"

He shakes his head no.

"Well… we can… I'm sure Lucius can set something up and we can go talk to them. If they're muggle they won't stand a chance."

Lucius didn't say anything which more or less meant he agreed with his wife which made Severus feel smaller as he scribbled letters weakly.

 _I don't want too._

"I'll arrange things in the morning."

His wand wavers a moment before he huffs angrily and writes out his demand.

 _We do it at the Burrow._

"Severus," Narcissa nearly laughed. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?" Lucius asks defensively.

 _You bring them to the Burrow._

Lucius's jaw clenched, never one to take orders.

"Why? Why not here?"

 _Eyes…. They need to see it too._

Lucius adjusted his seat angrily. "Severus, you know you can just live here."

 _I know. But I can't. Not… not yet._

"Sever-"

"Lucius." His wife hushes. "Severus has made a point of his own wishes. He's alive and he realizes it as well as he realizes can't stay in hiding forever. Our friend is back from the dead, I, personally intend on granting him near whatever he wants right now."

The husband is silent. Maybe it's because he knows this tone she's using, maybe the years of being in this role has taught him not to argue with such a force as she was. Whatever the reason, Lucius said nothing, sighed, and then nodded.

"Fine."

…..

She's still crying when he arrives back at the Burrow, the noise echoing in the hall just under the patter of rain and one glance at the clock tells him it's far too late for such a Ministry employee to be up blubbering about a boyfriend who was worthless from the start. Ronald Weasley. What was she thinking, the far clear minded professor thinks as he ascends the staircase. Up another flight, he's silent as the shadows as he slips past Lupins door and then he travels three more before he's standing on the other side of the wave of sadness. He's deciding what method to undertake. This would be Granger's room.. Well, a room that Granger occupies. She was a student that's no longer a student, a woman that's far more than the little girl at the desk. She had the brazen to knock on his door, why was he so weak as to do it now to hers. He knocks but hears nothing in return and smirks when the sobbing gets just a bit quieter. He knocks again… Nothing. He sighs and goes for the handle that twists and opens with a simple push.

He doesn't follow the door though, he stands in the threshold and uses his eyes to scan the space. Quickly, he finds Granger on the bed and he watches as she stumbles to wipe her face and pull her robe around herself.

"Don't you know how to knock!" She pushed and he just raised his eyebrow and waited.

"Well?!" She says a bit louder, getting up into a stumbling stand and coming around the bed with just a bit trouble and weight against the poster poles. "Don't you have anything to say?! Anything at all?"

He has many things to say. He had an insult sitting on his tongue just for her and a few choice words that would only mock her and make her that much more angry. But he can't say anything, so he says nothing.

"Get in here." She exasperates, defeated at arguing with silence and he will do as he's told and closes the door behind him.

He watches her cross her arms and land on the bed, looking in front of her before she side-eyed him.

"Remus was right." She whispers and he'll lean against the light wooden desk that occupies every room, ankles crossing one over the other. "You're a git."

He smirks at the ground as he crosses his arms, settling himself into a casual pose. They wait in silence, roles flipped from the other night.

"So…. Now I yell at you?" A calmer, but still drunk Hermione asks in a darkened tone and he turns his eyes up to her. "And I'm calling you a git..."

She waits a moment like he'll say something.

"But you came here? Why?" She says when he doesn't say anything at all.

He didn't understand why people keep asking him questions that needed more than a nod or a shake of his head... but he knew there was a quill and paper next to where he was that she was pressing him to use. He shrugs and she narrows her eyes.

"Something's different about you." She steps closer and watches his hand dive deep into his pocket before pulling out a vile he passes to her with a hand over his near fully healed stomach.

"Seeper." She whispers, running her fingers over the written script that lay attached to the sticky brown parchment. "Expensive. Did you buy it?"

He shakes his head no and she understands. "You went off again?

He nods and she almost flushes as their fingers brush during the pass back. "And I've been crying the entire time."

He nods again and Hermione sighes, looking away, pulling her hair behind one of her ears.

"I feel like I'm just waking up in a really bad dream." She explains slowly, lowering herself before her teacher, sitting on the edge of the bed.. "I hate my job... I hate my best friend... I don't know where I've been… I…"

She looks at him, her voice fading off before it resets. "I'm talking to you about this like you don't know what it feels like." She ends in a huff and small smile. "Sorry, bout that."

He nods his head slowly as she wipes her nose on her sleeve and takes a deep breath out before looking at him again. "I think I like you more silent. You're easier to talk to." She says quietly looking him over…

His eyebrow quirks as she glances the way of her half-full bottle of toxic sitting on the edge of the side table next to the bed and can feel his disapproving glare against the back of her neck. When she looks back she sees that yes indeed he's disapproving and even though he sat against the desk, he was far more like the man she remembered than she was the woman she wanted to be.

"I was the _other woman_ , by the way."

She can't read his expression, some sort of mixture of uncaring and unsurprised.

"Yeah, at some point he decided that I wasn't good enough while not to having the gull to end it…."

She looks up again, he's watching her patiently, eyes holding on her, head tipped forward just slightly.

"It's been going on for two years." She sighed looking out the window, only turning back when she hears the scratching of the quill on laying piece of parchment.

It was a short sentence and before she knew it the quill was landing but the paper didn't lift from the desk. Snape would though. He'd fluidly push from his seat to his feet and in about the time it took for her to reach the desk he was already gone and had closed the bedroom door behind him with a wave of magic. Slowly, in the silence that felt just a little bit emptier she picks up the paper with the small line of script that sat dried at the top of the page.

 _You've always been better than, "good enough"_


	7. The Lakes Reflection

**The Lakes Reflection**

All good people who have been through a shattered heart will say that it's that very first day after the world shattering end of something very loved, when the pain hurts the most and the world seems it's dimmest. For Hermione, she didn't really remember all that much about the first day except for the very little that she had eaten in the time between that second morning Hermione would wake from another heavy sleep totally absorbed by her bed and weighed down by the heavy weight of depression and realization of everything that was wrong. Which, unfortunately was a lot..

First, she had never called her mother back….. She had gotten drunk like she promised she wouldn't and cussed out Snape to his face like she never thought she'd do. It didn't end as bad as she thought though, and she attributed the vast majority of that to the simple fact he couldn't say anything even if he wanted to. But he had been sober… she did remember that and it only made her feel worse about how she had acted. Second, she was slowly coming to the realization that she hates her entire life. As much as she told herself she was doing the world right in a job she always wanted as well as she knew she was helping many innocent creatures, she had also realized that she didn't actually love what she was doing enough to put up with all the constant abuse that she faced. She wasn't a hero… That was Harry. She was just Hermione Granger….

Three. She had indeed become _the other woman_ in the first real, and only relationship she had going for her with someone who acted as a center point for her entire teenage life _._ When did she lose sight of the red flags? When did their spark die? When did he move on? He had been her best friend… Why couldn't he tell her such things… Why didn't he care enough to save her heart? That morning she cried all over again behind a magically silenced wall, but the weight would hardly slip away. She cried because Harry had yet to check on her. She was depressed because no one had asked her if she was okay... Not even Molly. No one seemed to notice all these things she saw now and if they had that was worse because that means they had all chosen not to say a thing about it… The red flags that real friends would have mentioned….. If she had any... As she lay in the quiet bedroom of the Burrow she bites her lip and listens to the sound of the small farm outside the cracked bedroom window. She breathes out heavily as she finds herself truly alone for first time since that first night at Hogwarts. She would cry because she missed her cat and when she's forced herself to stop she would instead promise herself to pull from this hole she was stuck in and make her way back to the front door of the lonely life of her cabin if for no other reason than to get Crookshanks and come back… Or go to bed..

She knows her wild adventures of evil and wars were over and even though she hated it… she missed her friends and the constant company. Either one of her best friends had ended up better than her as did most of everyone else in her life…. Even Draco… She wipes her eyes and looks around the room. Her mother was right, she really did never get to grow up normally... Harry and Ron were her building blocks of magic…. Without them…. Well.. what comes next?

Slowly, she pushes herself up against the headboard and wipes her nose on her sleeve as she glances around. She wants to go back to when it all started and choose a different path where she gets to grow up like a normal eleven year old girl. In fact, her first year of any sort of magic in her entire life was almost nothing but chaos. She fought terrible creatures and met the most evil of people. She remembered the eyes of the basilisk in the mirror, and the touch of Bellatrix as torture rips through her body. She was so young… even now. But she had seen more than many others which was enough where she knew she'd never have a restful sleep again.

She scratches her head as if she's scratching through cobwebs as she thought back the last few years. Had she really become this lost? She would have gone to ask Harry if he wasn't at work. She would have gone to ask George if she could get out of bed. She knew Ginny would listen… but this about her brother…. She glances to her side and sees the parchment resting on the small table. She could go bother Snape, but like her he drank spirits from the bottle which was one of her problems in the first place. She feels like crying, because this isn't the life she wanted at all. She feels ugly in her skin because she wonders what Ron sees in… _Gwen._ She feels worthless because everyone has love but her. And as one could imagine this was all heavy heavy to carry especially for as long as she had. She wanted to drink so badly, she wanted to call her mother but knew her mother didn't understand the extent of what she had gone through nor would she want to know. They're happier in ignorance...

Snape knew….

Her heart skips as she hears this phantom thought.

He knew Bellatrix. He knew the evils of Death Eaters and of Voldemort and his Snatchers. She knew the potions the man set up in to guard the Philosopher's Stone. He knew Sirius, James and Remus Lupin. He knew what happened every year at that school for six long years. He knew about… nearly everything that had happened to her. But she won't go to him. She was stupid to think that Snape would tolerate that and was stupid to be thinking about spending time with that man under the pretense of it being a safe space. He hated her, she reminded herself. She had to remember that. She could go talk to George?

That afternoon she'd force a comb through her hair and put on something that wouldn't assume she has just been in bed all day. She tries to mask her red eyes with makeup and falls back from the front door as she notices there's too much depression on her face to cover, so she started talking her way out of talking to anyone. Quietly the handle turns and with the best false face she could hold, she moved from the bedroom and shuffled out into the small hallway. It was well past noon by now and she honestly isn't even totally sure George was even home. She was just guessing he was because… well… Maybe she was hoping that he was feeling bad again. One of those days he stayed locked up….

She's made her down the staircase that twist and wrapped and as she passed the green door she promised herself she wouldn't knock on even if George wasn't around. George has a wooden door, an dark wooden oak door with a brass handle. She knocks and then she waits and then she knocks again with a falling heart. No one answers and she frowns with her hand as a fist that hangs in the air as she debates the prospect of knocking one more time just in case. If he was there he would have answered by now… if he was there, she would have felt him in the wood. But right now the door is cold and when she's about to turn away she hears the tapping of feet on the stairs below her. She pauses, watching the curve in the stairwell, feeling her heart skip when the flash of black steps into view. She almost doesn't want to see him, she was almost wishing that she had left him behind as she descended the stairs but there he was, looking just as deterred as she expected as he stood holding two cups of purple liquid, one in each hand. Her own hand, slowly lowers and she puts on a meek smile. He's wearing less than his teachers days, enough to cover his throat with the collar of his simple, black button down shirt. Proper trousers that were rather loose, his ankles aren't buttoned, on his feet he wears dull, what looked like leather boots. He doesn't look tired or sloppy... he just looks more like a regular person, which was something unbalancing to her.

"Lunch?" Is all that she comes up with and he'll give a weak sigh and a reset his impatient glare before continuing on his way, expecting her to move which she does but she'll turn to face him after a moment of quick debate.

"Professor," She sees him pause but he doesn't move to turn to her, "can I ask you a question?"

He had really wanted to say something at that moment and whether it was kind or rude she'd never know but she could see it in his expression and in the way his throat had moved just a bit when he had turned to face her. He had stopped walking and almost as immediately had tightened his shoulders but still, slowly he moved to look at her. His eyebrow curves upwards, his shadowed expression darkening as his head cocks to the side just so and his fingers tighten on the cold glass cups. He's in the middle of taking a step and is ready to start walking away if she doesn't start with her question fast enough.

"Do you have any advice for me…." She asks him through a tightening throat. "About anything?"

The step he had taken was taken back so he stands on a single stair. He stares at her for what she thought was self reflection but would strike her as something new when she remembered his plight. Somehow, the look of thoughtfulness turned to that of personal insult without him actually changing his expression and suddenly he looked angry without twitching a feature on him. If she would give guess, she'd guess that anything he would have said to her would not have been kind. He takes a tense sip of his purple liquid as he keeps his eye on her, the tilting of his head flashing the scars on his jaw that she sees quite grotesquely defined from her position a few steps below him.

"I'm sorry." She whispers taking a step down and dropping her head. "That was stupid of me."

She turns her back on him and continues on her way down that stairs and for whatever reason she was almost hurt when instead of an insult or something crude as familiarity would dictate, nothing at all but the midday silence would follow her as she goes.

…..

The fire hair of the last man she ever wanted to see stuck out against the woodsy greens and the surrounding forested landscape. She saw him before he saw her but he heard her approaching up the stone dotted pathway and straightened instantly from his spot against her house, putting his hands up with palms raised. Her hand is on her wand, a motion she had repeated many times and just like before she won't attack even though it's all she wanted to do.

"'Mione."

"HERmione." She corrects him sharply, stopping before him when he refuses to move from infront of her door.

"Hermione. Right. Sorry. I just….. Can I explain? Can we just…. Talk for a minute?"

"Talk?'

"Talk."

She didn't want too, instead she had wanted to yell at him and worse, curse him. But she couldn't, she was so tired and so frazzled and and had such a weighted heart that she actually says yes. She's so overwhelmed by everything that she lets him into her home. She's so frazzled that she ends up sitting across from him at the kitchen table, her fingers slowly running over the cat who sits as a wall that breaks the tense space between them. It a different kind of a silence that surround them. A silence that she didn't like and one that made her heart race and fingers fidget.

"Hermione, I want to say that, I'm sorry….. For everything…. I just…. I didn't…. I didn't want this to become… this."

His words are broken and his sentence obviously unpracticed. Had he not planned any of this, Hermione thinks to herself as she slowly leans forward in the creaking chair. "What is _this?"_

He sighs. "You know I've never been good at words…" He gives a small smile but one that was not shared by her.

"I know." She whispers looking at her fingers as they moved through the cats long orange fur. "I spent years correcting your essays."

"I wouldn't have made it through those years without you."

There's an awkward silence that makes her look up and when she thinks that she would rather have anyone else infront of her, she knew that also meant Snape whose silence was different and nothing like this.

"I know." She whispers when he offers nothing more.

He suddenly adjusts in his seat. "Hermione. I want you to know I didn't ask her to marry me… She asked me… I didn't want this…. I don't want to be with her, I want to be with…" He pauses. Her eyes raise. And now there is a new feeling to the silence. "Hermione I know I did wrong. I don't love her I just…You were just…" His words taper away but she knows what he means.

"Just what?" She asks with balling fingers.

"Just… You know... Ever since the war you've just been-."

"I'm waking up." She says with a raise of both her eyebrows and a tone that reflected her self reflections. She continues when he says nothing. "But I haven't been okay…. Have I?"

He shakes his head. "No. But, I mean, but don't feel bad… I don't think either of us have been okay… I don't think that a lot of people have been okay since..."

She's had enough and looks at Ron who quickly adjusted in his seat. "Ron, you were my best friend. I don't know what to do now that we're done."

"Hermione." he gives her a real smile and slowly extends his hand over the table towards her. "We don't have to be done. We needed to have this talk, and now we have. I don't want to lose you, I do really love you... If you just stop the drinking so much and… you know… And then I'll leave Gwen behind, of course. I just know.. If we try…. Things can go back to what they were." He smiles like he expected a trophy from her but she doesn't smile in return. With a glance to his hand, she then looks back into his eyes, slowly shaking her head no.

She looks at him with a blank face, question after comment racing through her mind as his smile faltered and his fingers twitched as if she didn't know what he wanted her to do. Finally, she lands on the first of many things she wants to know..

"Are you being serious?"

He cocks his head, his smile totally gone from his face. "I don't understand…."

"Ron…." She sighed out a deep breath as she looked around the room. "Do I mean so little to you? Seriously?"

"Hermione, I don't know what you're talking about but I'm being serious. I'm sorry for wha…"

She can't hear him because she's thought of something more important than his excuses. She remembered the parchment that's sitting on the bedside table in the room at near top of the Burrows massive twisting staircase. She remembers the curves of the written letters that lay upon its tan surface, black as night, fluid as the alcohol that twists in the glass cups and burns like acid on the way down with a truth the struck her so.

" _You've always been better than just good enough."_

She almost feels herself lift off the seat as she snaps back into the conversation all at once, interrupting Ron without a care as to where he was with his monologue.

"You know what?" She starts with a breath of fresh forest air. "You never even tried to help me, even after all I've done for you... You saw all the warnings and you…what? Ran off and found yourself another woman until I snapped out of it? For two years at that! I've done so much for you….. And you….." She's repelled in her seat, away from the ghost white Ron who will watch her stand up with far more confidence than he thought she had. "You're still just the same pathetic coward."

She sees the fire of love in his eyes fog over into a winter's chill as he watched her shead through her own haze while he recognized the fact that it was just too late for redemption"

"I don't need you." She released from her chest. "You… and Harry were my entire childhood so maybe that's why I think I do… But my heart is broken and I can't say I trust anything you have to say.. But, after what you just offered I know I'll make it through…"

"Hermione…"

"I know this, because I have never settled being just good enough."

Leaving Ron standing in confusion, her cat is at her heels as by now a backpack is under her arm as another floats around in the other room finishing packing itself.

"Hermione! Wait." Ron chases after her with wide eyes wide and an arm waving. "Hermione!"

Outside he catches up and grabs her wrist with a desperate grip and she'll stop and turn to face him.

"Where are you going?" He asks her.

"I'm going to the Burrow." She says matter of factly as she pulls her arm from his grasp. "And I'm going to stay there for a while to help _your_ mother, which means if you ever want to see me, you will have to see me there."

"What's wrong with, mum?"

She shakes her head, "the same thing that's been wrong with all of us."

"I think you're being a bit rash about this." He tries which again only goes to prove her right that he was just a plain fool.

"No, Ron," She smiles a hurt but meant smile. "I think I'm finally making sense."

"You're going to tell my, mum?" His tone slips into a selfish honesty.

"No." She pauses. "Worse. I'm going to tell Snape. I'm going to tell him that all those terrible things he said about you, he was right about. I'm going to tell him about Gwen and maybe, if I word things in the right way and put in enough insults, he might actually enjoy it enough where he won't shut the door in my face before I'm done."

Ron just stood there for a moment that Hermione didn't know her place in until his head suddenly cocked.

"Are you….. Are you using _Snape_ against me?" Ron, who rarely understood much about greater plans grasped this one far faster than Hermione assumed he would.

"Y...Yes." She reasoned with herself quickly.

He looked… confused. His head kinda weighed too much on one side and his jaw just slacked slightly. He looked like a bird, or something silly like that.

"Two years." She huffed as she fixed how her robe sat on her shoulder. "No, Ron. I'm going to let you tell them about what you did to me."

And then, with a pep in her step and a lighter soul, Hermione Granger and the very loyal Crookshanks leave the home she had hid in, destined for a day that would be much brighter than yesterday.

….

He had been standing by the window in the bedroom when he's see her figure pull from the shadows of the surrounding bog. He had been well aware of her before she even came through the front door and immediately he knew she'd be at his door instead of turning to her actual friends to talk about whatever was making her so damn happy. Did this make him her friend, he thinks as she watches her approaching the house. She wasn't his friend, that was for sure…. But… No…. He'd have to correct this if she thought anything different.

With a tightening jaw he slips away from the window and moves on weak knees to the leather chair by the fire to sit and wait. He was doing better than all the other days before but potions couldn't fix everything, one of those things was the pain and exhaustion of a healing body. For the most part he's completely sober… but it's fair to reason that all the lacking food and sleep will affect anyone's mind to some extent. He had run away, pushed himself through the road of regret until he couldn't run a single step more. So now he sits. He knows she has many other options she could take…. She could have stopped and talked with Molly, she could have gone to Ginny or Potter, or even Lupin or George about whatever kicked up her spark…. But no. His fingers tighten on the arm rests of the chair as he waits.

A bit of time will pass where he sits staring at the licking flames when suddenly a knocking comes from the door. He waits for the first round to pass, his fingers at his nose as he lets out a pained sigh just as the second round begins. He knows she won't leave so he's stuck waving his hand, releasing magic that will unlock the knob and let her in. He's planned this out and as she entered he theatrically rises from the seat like a shadow of something terrible from her past. Slowly breathing, he feeds the flickering corners of the room which provides him the looming shadows and sense of connection with the darkness of the space. He tries to scare her off with the reminder of what he had been, but even a creature like he couldn't hold the strength against the wave she greeted him with.

"You know you're right." She spoke far too confidently and comfortably for his liking but it wasn't then where his darkness broke.

"You know, I didn't get it at this stairs," She speaks without looking at him. She hadn't looked at him and instead she's pulling a bottle of alcohol from a purple purse that holds most of everything including a bottle opener. "You know. Earlier. But….. Then stopped by the house as I was picking up things…" She pauses when a flash of confusion is expressed within his darkness that approached on light steps.

She glances up at the slowly approaching creature. "Oh, I'm moving in. Not your room, the room upstairs. For now. Fred wants to move out and asked to me to watch over Molly. And well, that's it. I said yes. I guess your up to date on the gossip."

By now the glasses are filled and she passes him the cup she's designated for him… She looks right at him and although he can sense her nerves he doesn't help the situation when after a moment of thought, he takes the glass he promised himself he'd nurse slowly. An offer he takes because he's not refusing alcohol from this girl when that meant having to watch her drink anyway. He had failed the first step in making her believe she hates him, and with his first sip he's intent on washing away that realization. But what he tastes isn't toxic, instead, it's an apple fizzy drink. Something sober and he'll turn to see her sipping her own with a small smile on her lips.

"I figure a break was in order." She shrugs.

"So," She continues slowly as she watches him take another sip. "Like I was saying, you were right. I have never just been, "good enough." And.." She laughs as she can't believing she's actually admitting this to the man she was talking to. "And Ron is such an idiot…."

He smirks. He couldn't help it. He had thrown out so many insults that he never took as insults because to him they were true… Regardless, there was a fire behind her words that broke a sadness the world could feel.

'I mean." She takes a sip. "Merlin…. He literally told me, "Stop drinking Hermione AND THEN I'll break up with Gwen…. Now, I figure that's probably that's not how he meant to word it but…" She chuckles as she points her drink at him, "He thought we'd just get back together. After two years of his cheating… Sober!"

She drank the sparkling apple cider and so would he. Within a deflated darkness he'd listen to her mundane complaining and reveled in hearing that he was right and why over and over again. He didn't really have a choice. If he could have said something, he would have regardless of it was an insult at her, or just to get her to fill his glass. For a good few minutes he just watched her as she talked, away in a womans world of chatter, bottle in her hand that far forgotten as she drinks her own glass. He just wanted another glass, just to pretend he was drinking something heavier.. At one point, she'd finally stop and realize his silence. She'd apologize like the idiot she wasn't as she filled the glass as he expected her to rant some more. Instead of that, she'd go quiet and stare at him in a way that made him uncomfortable.

"How are you?" She asked.

He just stared at her, trapped in a body of silence, his mind coming up with so many responses that his throat just couldn't form.

"Your hand?"

He glanced down and raised his freshly wrapped hand for her to see.

"Better then? Good to hear. Molly is quite a skilled healer isn't she…? And the two cups from earlier? You're eating more?"

He doesn't know why she cares, but as he glares from his shade and shadow he slowly nodded as he lowered his hand.

"Do you know why you can't eat?"

With unwavering eye contact, he shakes his head no as he takes from his cup, feeling the awkward as the booze slip downwards knowing nothing would come up. Here is when he sees her falter as he had wanted her to do before. She starts a question and then stops. She bites her lip and finishes her drink before pushing it out.

"Have you thought about maybe talking to…..them?

Slowly he nods. The fact that he wants to sit down is a warning to him that he's getting too comfortable and he would prefer to never feel comfortable around Hermione Granger. He ignores his knees and twitching calf muscles and tries his hardest not to sway. It's time for her to leave and from within his chest his anger grows.

"Well then…. Goodnight."

He nodded again with his aura unwavering and unrelenting and something he knew she felt. And this is when she realizes that he's wearing shoes. He watches her as she looked him over noticing his traveling cloak and put together appearance.

"Are you heading out?"

He shakes his head.

"Did you just come back?"

Now he's had enough. He's stepped away from her and the quill on the desk at her side has risen, the scratching pulling her attention from him.

" _What ever gave you the notion you could ask me such things?"_

She suddenly hides behind the glass and her hand as she searches for an answer as she watched the quill pick back up and begin to write again.

" _You accept my silence as if you are too a fool like the boy you go on about."_

He feels her watching him, looking him over she lets out a small huff in her breath as he moves past her destined for the seat by the fire.

" _Leave me. I'll never understand your incessant need for attention and your misplaced ideals."_

Her tone has changed, her expression fluid and right down the drain. "Right. Well, have a good night."

He raises the glass for her send off and slowly she'll step back and turn away and with only a single look over her shoulder she slips into a position from her past that she's forgotten until now. Too quietly for her, she's stepped out of the room and has closed the door behind her leaving him alone to finally sigh and turn toward the bed.

...

"You've been hanging out with Snape a lot." Ginny's voice came from above and Hermione froze as if she were a child caught sneaking around. Her hand drops from the handle of the green door and she turns to face Ginny who had come down the stairs that she was about to descend.

She'd hug Ginny after she hugged her first, and this would be noted by the only sister who when breaking the hug looked at Hermione curiously.

"Come on." She ushered. "Before he yells at us."

She sighed as she wandered down the stairs with the houses little sister, casting her eyes over her shoulder once as she stepped away and twist down the staircase. "Oh. I don't think that he'll be doing anything like that."

"Hermione, did something happen? I saw you a few days ago… You didn't seem like you wanted to talk then… But the.. I don't know. I'm sorry that I haven't come talk to you. I'm sorry I got kinda wrapped up in Harry and-"

"What did you mean by I've been spending a lot of time with, Snape." Hermione interrupted once they reached the kitchen.

"Just, Remus had said… and then Harry…" She shrugged nervously and Hermione's shoulders loosened as she sighed. "Well, it doesn't matter. What happened, Hermione? Are you really staying?"

"First… you should go ask Ron." She gave a weak smile as she shrugged. "And yeah… I have a feeling that here is exactly where I need to be. Signs and all."

"Signs? Is Hermione into divination now?" Ginny laughed and Hermione chuckled.

"Not so much. Just, I'm going to try and… I guess, go with it."

"So, you're staying?" she asked and Hermione shook her head yes which brought Ginny to smile and take Hermione's hands which she squeezed back just as warmly. "Good! It will be like old times."

That was a phrase Hermione didn't know she didn't want to hear and she felt her shoulders tense up.

"What's going on down here?" a kind voice says from the darkness.

The two looked behind them to see Remus coming down the stairs wearing a worn, tried smile. "I heard Ms. Granger up and about and for a moment I thought we were hearing ghosts. How are you Hermione? You didn't see you for dinner…. Again."

"It's fine," she sighed.

"Oh, clearly it's not." Remus has gone off by the stove and set the started. "Whats going on?"

She looked at Ginny and sighed.

"Go talk to your brother. I don't really know what to say." She shook her head, deciding to get this out of the way now. "But there's something he needs to tell you."

Ginny didn't ask anything further. Instead she cocked her head as her eyes heavied. "Oh, Hermione I'm sorry… But maybe this is for the best…"

This last comment would take Hermione by surprise and she's look between her and Remus who by now with collecting cups with a wave of his hand.

"What?"

Ginny bit her lip and glanced away towards Remus who suddenly looked just as uncomfortable as she did. "You didn't really seem….happy… with Ron. Remus. What do you think?"

He turns with a sigh and looks at Hermione sadly. "I… agree.. But I don't blame you or want to impose. I'm aware it's been very hard on a lot of people, but i can't imagine how it feels to be you."

"What do you mean?"

By now the tea is done and remus is landing cups in each of the young women's hands.

"Well, you know what I mean." He assures. "You grew up on the front lines of war….How long did Albus expect you to go before you needed a break?" He gives a dark smirk as he lands between the two woman, his back resting against the kitchen table.

"A break?" She thinks to herself as he takes a sip from his cup.

"Mhm. But look at you now, the last few days you've looked like you were shedding something heavy. Like sludge."

"You could see that?" She asks feeling a bit less lonely as both nodded their heads.

"You brushed us off." Remus shrugged with the cup in his hand. "We've tried to talk to you about it.. But you never stuck around to listen."

She feels a heaviness in her chest as she sips on her tea. She couldn't just come outright and tell them about Ron… Well, she probably could with Remus but certainly not with Ginny. That was her brother, and she had more respect for Ginny than to be the one to paint her brother a villain. Instead they would talk about other things. Ginny would talk about Quidditch and her upcoming schedules. She would be around for the next few weeks and she promised Hermione they would start having more "girl days" as Remus talked about a project he and Arthur had been working on. Something about a magicked vacuum that would suck up the small creatures that destroyed the garden and shoot them off the property. They talk about work and light about life until Ginny yawns and the cups are empty but almost like he knew her intentions, Remus would stay a moment longer.

"Now do you want to tell me what happened?" He asked once a minute or two had passed alone and Hermione was in the kitchen chair with a sigh.

"You can't tell anyone."

"Oh hush. I'm sure it's not so terrible."

She almost laughed, but a chuckle does escape. "Would you believe Ron's been hiding away because he has an entirely different life with some girl so far away that doesn't get our papers? Would you believe he's engaged … but not to me.. And on top of that would you believe that all of that is the reason why he's been so absent here at home…"

Remus smiled a small, broken smile as be played with one of the tea cups before releasing it for his magic to float it into the sink.

"Yes." He answers honestly. "But not because I have seen or heard anything myself mind you.."

Hermione sighed as she watched Crookshanks twist in her legs. "It's been going on for two years."

She heard him click his tongue in disappointment but nothing would come after that. She understood the silence, her and Remus were the same type of person like that where they wouldn't sit around a talk terribly of someone so close. Still, Hermione did see that Remus was upset by this.

"What comes next?" He'd ask soon enough when the nothingness between them spanned on to long.

"I don't know." She breathed out… "And I think that's a god thing."

She'd close the night out with a honest thank you to the ex-teacher who would nod his head and give her a smile.

"I won't tell anyone." He promises her and she'd thank him again before saying goodnight and starting up the stairs. As she leaves him in the kitchen she still wouldn't find herself alone. Standing in the stairwell, with his arms crossed and back against the wall stood Snape, a dark smirk playing on his lips.

"Oh, shut up." She sighed at him as he wears on her already lacking patience.

She's leave him standing there just as she had left Remus, with him watching her go as she slipped up the darkened straitcase, destined for the comfort of what was for now her room and her bed.


End file.
